War
by LaBellaBella
Summary: Set in the time of WW2, Bella Swan lives her life in a small town. She doesn't know what to think or feel when a group of soldiers comes home for a visit from the gruesome battlefields of Europe, led by a mysterious young Lieutenant General. All human, AU
1. Ready

**Hey guys, LaBellaBella here again-that's to those of you who've never read any of my stories before and/or my profile before. I just want to tell you three things before I go on with the story (I know it's annoying to read long author's notes, but too bad. I do it sometimes). One, I want to get the dumb disclaimer out of way, so here it is: THE ACTUAL STORY THESE CHARACTERS COME FROM DO NOT BELONG TO ME (cough Stephenie Meyer cough), SO SUCK IT! Now, secondly, I am aware that this is the second AU I've written. I like them, okay? And finally, I really hope you enjoy this story! **

**Ha ha. Now read!**

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"Miss Isabella Marie Swan! I would hope that you're pondering something worth while, because I have calmly repeated myself three times and have _yet_ to get a coherent answer from you."

My head snapped to attention, making the large pile of neatly stacked books tumble to the floor. I winced inwardly as a particularly heavy one dropped onto my foot, but quickly regained composure. I hurriedly scrambled to pick them up from around my feet, biting my lip as I wondered what my punishment would be like.

Shoot, this would get me into _so_ much trouble...

I looked around for the fifth book, the one that didn't seem to be on the floor with the rest of the others. Ugh. How far could one medium-sized, bright cherry-red dictionary have gone from the top of my head? It wasn't under the table, or near the rest of the girls' feet, or anywhere across the length of the cream-colored carpet of the study.

I soon found, however, that it was right in front of me, being handed over patiently by long thin fingers. "There you go," a calm voice answered, almost soothingly. But I knew that voice anywhere and it was not one that spoke of serenity.

I looked slowly up into the cold blue eyes of Miss Carpenter, somewhat sheepishly. I prayed that the reprimanding I was sure to get would be a brief one; though I wasn't sure that would be so, considering this was a "reoccurring problem".

"Miss. Swan." She spoke as if it were two separate sentences.

"Y-yes?" I could hear the other girls snickering behind me, their skirts ruffling.

"Please stand up straight when you speak. You seem a lazy brat."

Gosh, now the others were _really _laughing-and I mean straight out, in-your-face guffawing. Wasn't this school supposed to teach them appropriate manners? Remembering what Miss Carpenter had just told me, I straightened my shoulders. I was trying not to cringe as she pushed her tight face inches away from mine. "Yes ma'am."

She raised her eyebrows. "Well, Miss Swan, do you have anything to say to me and the other girls? I'm sure they're quite upset that you had to disrupt the entire session."

I sighed. There was definitely no way around this.

There never was.

Miss Carpenter wasn't exactly what I'd call a kind woman. Actually, that was an understatement. She was probably the most unbearable, uptight, self-centered, snotty woman I knew...save a few girls in my own classroom. But I'd always supposed that it was why they chose her for this job. After all, who but _this_ woman could keep a group of rowdy adolescences to maintain proper behavior? Who but _this_ woman could teach them to be like their upright ancestors, to respect their elders with the utmost respect? Who but _this_ woman could have absolutely no feelings, consideration, or kindness towards another human being?

I thought about all of this as I made my apology.

"I sincerely and totally apologize for my inappropriate behavior. I completely understand that, by yet again allowing myself to daydream during class time, I have interrupted the education of my fellow classmates and students. I take responsibility for stealing away the valuable time that could be spent on enriching our minds to their greatest extent. I am deeply sorry, and vow that I will not continue this act of indecency."

Although Miss Carpenter gave me a hard glare, she knew that she could milk my punishment for no longer. She grudgingly went back to her lesson and started around the room, placing more books on the girls' heads.

I was off this time, but who knew what would happen the next time I unexpectedly started to daydream?

Throughout the rest of the three hours, I tried not to doze off again. It was hard, though, for the combination of the deathly boring lesson and the not-so-quiet whispers of the girls around me made it hard to concentrate.

_Ding. Ding._

In that moment, every single pony-tailed head shot up, soon to be rushing out the door. I, myself, was included in that group, and rushed to gather all of my books; I wanted to be out of here as fast as possible. No, I _needed_ to be out of here as fast as possible. And with that, I tried to sprint out the door, unnoticed.

But of course, we all just _can't_ get what we want.

"Why, hello Lella-Bella!" I heard the shrill, annoying voice from beside me as I ran. _Maybe I can ignore it_, I thought, and kept my pace at a run, not slowing down. But the voice continued. "Hello? Mellsie Bellsie?" A slight panting, now, as if the voice was having a hard time keeping up. "Wait...Bella...stop...running!"

I smiled. "Go away, Lauren."

Lauren Mallory finally sped up a little, only to stop right in front of me. She was blocking my way. "Oh, Bing-Bong-Bella, why such hostility? I mean, after all of these years, I thought we were friends! I suppose not, though..." She faked a depressed look and sighed.

I fought the urge to laugh-since when had we ever been considered friends?

A chorus of giggles erupted from behind me. As I turned to look, I found that we weren't alone. Many of Lauren's cronies were just catching up, trying not to look out of breath. Two of them, Jessica and May, suddenly strutted over to us, grinning. They each went to one side of her as she continued. "But I suppose it's for the best, then. I mean, a gorgeous girl of upper class such as myself shouldn't be caught dead hanging out with a poor, homely girl that can't even pass _finishing school_." She smirked, and looked expectantly to May and Jessica, who in turn snickered loudly.

"Yeah," May chimed in. "I'll bet she couldn't even get the ugliest soldier in the entire army to pin her!"

They laughed.

"Or even Mr. Burns-and he's fifty years old!" Jessica blurted.

I was resisting the urge to slap each and every one of their pretty faces. What was _wrong_ with them? How could they treat another human being like this? I could feel the angry tears welling up in my eyes, threatening to flow. It took all of my being just to keep the waterfall from bursting, from spilling over my bright red cheeks, cherry-colored from histerical anger and embarrassment.

But deep down, I knew they were right. Afterall, I was probably the plainest girl in all of Chicago, with unruly dark brown hair and matching eyes. My skin, although clear, was deathly pale, even with the hot summer sun. My cheeks always held a bright flush-and it wasn't even the _pretty _kind of blush. It just _had_ to look like I was about to burst into flames, like I was a big tomato.

And I was up against one of the prettiest girls in my small town.

And she was. Lauren Mallory had long, flowing blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes. The only clothes she owned were tight and clung to her enhanced frame, aside from the uniform we were all required to wear at St. Mary's. But even so, men ravished her. She was a full-on, just-out-of-the-story-book seductress, and was never-and I mean never-turned down by a boy she wanted. They said she had been pinned about a thousand times.

It wasn't hard to believe.

But instead of clocking her, I simply walked away. I did not need to deal with her dumb antics right now; my mother had wanted me home in time for the distributing of chores.

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"Mary Anne?"

"Yes?"

"You'll be doing the laundry today. Remember to wash the lights and darks seperately-you know what happened last time. Oh, and don't forget to hang them exactly two inches apart from each other, as they won't dry properly if they get entangled."

"Yes, Mother."

Mary Anne, my eleven year-old sister, sighed and hurried off. She knew that the sooner she was done with the task, the sooner she would be able to take a ride to her best friend, Julianne's house. She had just recently acquired a brand new bicycle for her birthday three weeks ago, and was eager to show it off to everyone she possibly could.

My mother was walking slowly down the line of children, calmy instructing each one on what they were to do. I anxiously waited for my turn, not knowing what my own chore would be. Hopefully I wouldn't be caring for the chickens-it was undoubtedly my least favorite chore. They all seemed to hate me, and took every chance they could to peck and scrape my skin, or leave droppings on my skirts. It was annoying, and my mother knew how much I hated it.

"Leonard, you will be milking Minnie today. Be careful, she was in an awful mood when Dottie visited her yesterday."

"Yes ma'am."

"Bella?" My mother finally got to me, looking at me with warm eyes. Her voice was smooth, yet stern all the same. It was the way she always was; she figured that _someone_ had to keep us children in line, and my soft-hearted father certainly wasn't going to be the one to do it.

I nodded, bracing myself.

"I want you to get your town dress out from the upstairs closet. You'll be going to the grocery store today, and I made sure that there was not _one_ crease in the fabric. You _do_ know all of the things we need, correct? There's the tape-the thick kind- to patch up the holes in the chicken roof, and some extra needles. We need some apples and chives-you know how all mine just love to die on me-oh, and we also could use some extra ale, to soak the apples in. I'm planning to make a pie, and I'm running low on anything alcoholic...oh, and-"

I laughed, cutting her off. "I know, I know. I'll get to it, mother."

She sighed. "Be careful. Who knows what can happen in such a busy place as Mahoney's?" She paused, thinking that through. "Oh well, at least you can protect yourself better than any of the other children. Your seventeen now, and can handle it." Now smiling, she reached in to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "Now go get changed-before the crowd starts."

I grinned and ran upstairs.

My "town dress" as everyone in my family referred to it as, was actually very pretty, and even flattering on me. It was just about the only thing that hugged my body, and showed that I _did_, contrary to popular belief, have a figure. I didn't wear it often-I usually wasn't the one sent into town that often. It was usually my eldest brother Larry, but since he'd gone off...

I shook the thought off and began to change.

My mother had a strong idea that we should always look our best when going into town. She was a proud woman, and that was exactly why the pretty pale yellow fabric was sliding gracefully across my skin at this moment. It bore a floral pattern, printed with large pink boughs of freesia scattered daintily along the light fabric. It had a snow white collar, and showed a bit more skin on my chest than I usually preferred to bear.

I couldn't help but smile as I glanced at my reflection in the mirror. Then, I had a thought.

_Oh, why not?_ I argued with myself._ If your going to act like you're pretty, just do it._

Hesitating, I pulled out the large pins that so carefully held up my long hair, making the large brown tumble cascade in gentle waves down my back. My hair was soft and almost tame at this moment, completing the alternate look of my usually-not-so-attractive self. Usually, I was so reserved, always keeping my chocolate locks away in a tight bun, wearing only loose-fitting outfits that covered up everything except my neck.

I was ready, though I had no idea what for.


	2. Homecoming

**Hello, hello, hello. I promise this author's note will be short-I don't have a lot to say. I might be pretty busy over the next few days-school is coming to an end and finals are THIS WEEK! But don't worry-the load will definitely lighten up after that, and you know what that means...more posting time! So go ahead, read it, and please remember to review at the end-how am I supposed to know what you guys are thinking?! Anyway, go on! DO IT!**

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"_But, Mr. Sentry!_ Just yesterday you told my sister that each can of oil was one dollar and fifty cents! I know you did! And now you're trying to tell me that it's one eighty-five for a single barrel!"

"Sorry, little lady. No can do. It's a hard time, I'll say, what with the war and everythin', but we all gotta do what we can to survive."

I was fighting the urge to slap him, as I had earlier this afternoon. It was so strange-this was my second thought of violence today. First with Lauren, when she wouldn't stop teasing me outside of St. Mary's, and then now, with poor old Mr. Sentry, the oil seller that stood outside Mahoney's. Usually the thought of hurting anyone repulsed me, but I supposed I was on edge today.

I sighed frustratedly, trying to keep my cool.

Mr. Sentry was an elderly man, one that was always calm and collected. Every day he stood with his large barrels of oil outside of the store, asking people if they needed another supply. He had gray wispy hair, spotted with wheat-like strands and was always dressed casually; usually in his favorite pair of denim overalls (the ones with the popped button in the front pocket). On his head, he wore a straw hat, cocked lazily to the side as he leaned against the big metal cans.

At this moment, I was standing next to him, having already done the most of my grocery shopping. I had been arguing with him for the last twenty minutes about the sudden raised price of his oil. It was getting too consistent-the way he was making the cost go up every time one of my siblings or myself went to buy from him. Mr. Sentry may be a kindhearted man, but his penny-pinching was starting to get on my nerves.

I knew I should just forget it; just pay the price he told me the oil was. It could be possible that my sister was making the price up...but I quickly shook that particular idea from my mind. Beth had never been one to lie-not that she was good at it-and why she should start now was beyond me.

And it was true-she and I were the worst liars in the entire town. We used to play games with each other, to see who could lie better than the other. It was terrible, but it wasn't like anyone believed either of us anyways. We would get red in the face, or stutter nervously, and would most definitely not be able to look anyone in the eye.

So it was completely obvious that Mr. Sentry was wrong.

"Listen, I am truly sorry if I'm being rude, sir, but I-" I was cut off by the sound.

I shouldn't really say the sound-it was more like a thousand sounds. A symphony of them, all clashing against each other in one moment, fighting to be the loudest. It was a sudden, abrupt change from the mute silence of our small town seconds before. The atmosphere changed with it, into a feeling unidentifiable.

The first sound I heard was the drum.

It was steadily beating, happily, as if it were rejoicing. The pounding on its leathery skin was slow and steady; stable. The thunderous beat shook the earth, making the chimes above the door shriek with glee, singing in time with the merry rhythm. It was the base of the huge opera, the background music as the tune play joyously.

Then there were voices-_oh,_ the voices. There were so many of them. Some were laughing, some sobbing, and some were singing the Star Spangled Banner, all broken and out of tune from all the crying, the throats choked up with a mixture of joy and grief...but it didn't seem as if anyone cared. All noises were loud, growing even louder as they processed down the street.

Soon, I was able to see them.

There were about thirty...maybe forty of them. A handful of women, sobbing uncontrollably as they weakly waved American flags in the air, the red, white, and blue fabric swaying roughly in the breeze. Some were latched onto another man, some were just focusing on being able to walk. Then, a few men-all sorts of them-lawyers, bankers, doctors, storekeepers, each one marching proudly, bellowing out the national anthem. But another group, about thirteen of them, each wore the same uniform-dark brown, with scuffed golden buttons and many pockets. The material looked thick and leathery, and every one of the men was beyond dirty-like they'd hadn't taken a bath in days...

"Amazing," I heard a woman whisper behind me. I turned around to see it was Mrs. Pierce, the kindly woman that ran the cash register. She, too, had heard the noise and had come to see the commotion. "It's the...they...it can't be the..."

"It's the soldiers," I said in a voice no louder than hers.

And it was. Our boys-the Arlington Boys, as we called them, had come home from the still-raging war. I had wondered about that-the war certainly _was _still going-but now was not the time to dwell on idle questions. They had come back to us.

They had come home.

A grin of pure happiness was plastered on my face. How could it not be? This was the most joyful moment since 1939, the moment the war had officially started. Now, in 1942, we had our men back in our arms-it didn't matter for how long. "Where'd they come back from? How did they get here? How long are they staying?" I whispered excitedly to no one in particular.

To my surprise, it was Peter Mahoney that answered-a boy of about fourteen that lived in the apartment above the store, son of the owner. "They're the U.S. Army Infantry Squad-about twelve men in all. They just came back from Holland, I'm guessing. Not sure why or how they got back, but I _did_ hear that they sometimes let men come home when they've been working for years."

"Oh." It was all I was able to say.

As I gazed at them with their proud, smiling faces, streaked with mud and grime, I felt a glimmer of hope. Could Larry be in there with them? Could he be one of those grinning faces with the sparkling eyes? Can a random shopkeeper's daughter be latched onto his arm, sobbing into his uniform's arm? My eyes welled up as I realized that it could not be-I knew that he was in the Marines, not the Army. That much was clear, as I could remember from his letters.

But all these thoughts dissolved as soon as I laid eyes on _him_.

He was easily the most gorgeous, handsome man I had ever put my eyes on, in all of my seventeen years. A thousand-no, million-times better than any singer or celebrity. He had, although dirt-soaked and uneven, shining bronze hair sticking out from the bottom of his military cap. He was grinning, and I could see that his teeth were perfect and white, compared to the yellowing rotten ones I had been expecting from a soldier. His skin was amazingly clear, other than random dirt streaks from the ground, and every feature was flawless. It was almost like I was seeing an angel...no, a god. Nothing from this universe.

"Oh, and that's Lieutenant General Edward Cullen. You see those stars on his jacket?" I nodded, staring at the three shimmering silver stars. "Well, that shows his rank in the army. There ain't a lot of Lieutenant Generals-about thirteen of them in the entire army! That makes General Cullen one of the most important-aside from the Generals and General of Armies." His voice was full of wonder and admiration for the man.

I, however, was surprised and skeptical. "But he can't be a year over twenty-five! How can he be that close to commanding an army?"

"Actually, he's nineteen. Turning twenty in June."

I couldn't help but let out a shocked gasp as I continued to stare at the boy. The entire group was close now, almost directly in front of Mahoney's. The noise was deafening-I could barely hear myself thinking a single thought. And then, as I watched intently, my entire focus on Edward Cullen, it happened.

He turned to look at me.

His eyes, I could see even through the ever-thickening crowd of people, were a startling green, like shining emeralds. It was as if you could compare an actual gem to it, the rock would seem dull in comparison. And then the intensity...like we were the only people there...As he watched me staring, his face broke out into a gorgeous broken smile-perfectly tilted to one side, adorably.

I could feel my face alighting on flame as I turned quickly away, trying to find something else to focus on. Ah. Right. Where was I again?

"Hello there? Isabella Swan?"

Where was that voice coming from?

"Bella, yoo-hoo, are ya there?" I soon recognized the smooth old voice as Mr. Sentry's, a few feet away from me now (I suppose I had been unconsciously moving away from him). He looked like he had been trying to get my attention for a while now, and was waving his hand at me, as if trying to break a trance.

My face, if it could, got redder. "I'm terribly sorry, Mr. Sentry. Can you tell me where we were before all this excitement?"

"Oil tanks."

"Oh! You're right." The reminder sent me back to reality. I was supposed to be angry with this man-how could he offer such high prices for oil? I smiled a little, smug that I didn't slip. "Now, sir, I don't mean to be disrespectful, but your costs are simply too high. I'm afraid that it's much higher than I was promised, and my mother will not be pleased with me."

He frowned. "Well, I don't want to make Renee upset but...sorry girlie. My prices are my prices, take 'em or leave 'em." It didn't seem like he would budge anytime soon. Mr. Sentry had always been a stable man, and when it came to money he stayed where he was.

Too bad I was the most stubborn seventeen year old in Illinois.

"But that's not fair!" I wailed, trying to play that card. "I have a family of nine, sir! How easy do you believe it is for us to live comfortably? With the raging war and Larry being gone...it's too much to have to pay a large amount when all we want is some heating! Is that so much to ask for?" It was a little wrong, I'll admit, but it wouldn't seem bad later, when I went home to see my mother's angry face.

"What did I say before? Time's are hard these days. Not my fault you can't afford it."

"But Mr. Se-"

"No! I'm not lowering the price. I guess you'll have to go without a little warmth for the next few-" But he stopped, for another voice joined in, cutting him off mid-sentence.

"Is there a problem here?" The new voice was impossibly smooth-like velvet, or butter. It was warm and kind, asking politely, not in any way demanding. It was like it was asking for the time, or the weather, not barging in on a heated argument.

Mr. Sentry went deathly pale. Quickly, he took off his straw hat, bowing slightly. "Lieutenant General Cullen," he said, voice weak.

Edward Cullen shook his head and stuck out his hand. "Please, call me Edward." He winked at me, that same crooked smile on his face.

Oh. My. God.

It took all I had not to faint right there on the porch steps, in front of everyone. Edward Cullen, Lieutenant General of the army and absurdly handsome boy of nineteen, had just acknowledegd me. No, he even winked at me! Could that mean something? Can it be a foreshadowing of something to come? My mind responded instantly, dripping with sarcasm and vemom: _Oh, yes Bella. After three seconds of meeting you and one half-second of motioning to you, he will fall dead in love with you. Gosh, you're not even that pretty._

Ugh. Sometimes I hated myself.

"G-good afternoon L-lieutenant...I mean, E-Edward," Mr. Sentry was speaking nervously, stuttering with his words. I'd never seen him like this-he was always the calmest out of the whole group, perhaps even the whole town. To see him now, looking bashfully at his feet, made me realize just how important this man in front of me was. He continued, struggling with words. "My n-name is Adam Sentry, and I...um...I sell the oil tanks here."

Edward nodded, not once looking bored. "Good afternoon it is...Now, who is this young lady here? Miss Sentry, I presume? Are you his daughter?" He spoke with curiosity burning in his stunning green eyes, making it hard to think a comprehensible thought.

Thankfully, I didn't have to.

"This here is Miss Isabella Swan, and goodness, no-not one of my own. And thank goodness for that," He seemed to get over his jitters now, joking with humor in his old pale eyes.

I glared at him, while Edward just laughed. It was a musical sound, like...a god chuckling.

"And, why, may I ask, is that?" Edward was absurdly polite.

"Such a stubborn one, that girl is. Like she was rooted to her spot. You see," He said, laughing to himself. But I could also hear a hint of annoyance in his voice. "She's been trying to get me to change the prices on my oil tanks. I told her little sister the day before, I told her, 'Now, you go tell your family that this here oil's one eighty-five for two gallons. Make sure you tell them exactly that.'" He looked at me, smug, and then towards Edward. He expected him to laugh along, to chuckle at my absurdity.

But all Edward did was look at me for a long time, studying my face. Then he spoke, looking finally at Mr. Sentry, who was now standing with an uneasy grin pasted on his lips. "I'll pay the difference." He said simply.

My face reddened, and I was finally able to speak. "Oh, dear no!" I cried. "You can't do that for me!"

"Yes, actually, I can," He spoke pleasantly.

"No! I won't allow it! Mr. Sentry, please. I don't need the lowered price anyway. I'll pay your one eighty-five if that's what your cost is, so if you'll wait a moment, I can get my-"

Edward shook his head, and leaned closer to speak to me. Even in this position, he was easily a head and a half taller than my five foot three. He gave off a strangely amazing scent; it took all I had not to lean in so I could inhale it more. Even after a few years at war, he was still managing to look and smell and sound breathtaking. "Listen, Bella," He paused. "Do you mind if I call you that?"

I nodded furvently-he could call me _anything_ he wanted..."Actually, that's what everyone calls me," I whispered.

"Good. Now, Bella, I'm going to be frank with you. I am going to do _whatever_ I please-especially if it's to help a beautiful woman such as yourself. This isn't just because of my position in the army-it's because of my position as a man. Who would I be if I just saw you so upset, and not do anything about it?" He was already giving Mr. Sentry the money, who looked just as confused as I was.

"A normal one," I murmured sarcastically; though I was surprised I could even utter a coherent sentece now.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

He grinned. "Well, anyway, Miss Swan. Bella. It was such a pleasure to meet you, as I must be on my way to tame the boys; _someone_ needs to keep them in line." He raised his eyebrows once and chuckled, and I thought I was going to faint. Then, he stuck his hand out, as if waiting for me to shake.

All I could do was stare at it for a minute, unable to speak. Finally, when I lifted my own arm, he grabbed my hand and brought it up to his lips, planting a soft kiss there. My skin tingled madly where the velvety skin touched, and lit my entire forearm on fire. It was more than anything a man ever gave me-that anyone had ever given me. It took all of the force I could muster not to just melt into his arms.

"Thank you," I whispered.

All he responded with was another wink, and a nod of the head for Mr. Sentry, whose dumbstruck face was probably just as clueless as mine. He turned, then, and ran to catch up with the now extremely large group of people marching down the streets-about half of the population of Arlington (which, in whole, was about one hundred and seventy people). They welcomed him back eagerly, and I saw about half a dozen girls cling to him as soon as he passed. _Figures,_ I thought jealously, _he probably has about seven girls back at home._

_What was wrong with me?_

Never before had I felt this way about anyone-especially not any man in this small town, all whom I've known since the day I was born. Sure, all were fairly nice and treated me with some decency, but none had ever caught my eye. And yet, after five minutes of conversing with this stranger, I was acting like a lovesick little girl.

I shook my head, as if to clear these thoughts, and picked up my things; I wanted to get home as fast as I could.

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**Thanks, guys! Remember: REVIEW! Do I really need to tell you how much they make me happy?**


	3. Wine

**Salut, mon chou. Happy to see you again, and thanks so much for the encouraging reviews! I'm so glad you like it so far-and yes, I apologize to those of you who don't like the fact that Edward is human in this story. But hey, it's for the better, and that's why it's called an Alternate Universe, huh?**

**Just wanted to tell you guys that my friend was helping me make a website, so soon all of the pictures from ALL of my stories will be there, including a bunch of exclusive extras and stuff like that. So, I'll inform you guys as to when the site will be posted, kay? It's coming along great, if I do say so myself. So anyway, just get along with the story!**

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"You mean real soldiers, Bells? Like, the ones with guns and shiny pins?"

All of my siblings stared at me in awe, like I had brought them the secret of life. My youngest sister, Lily, had asked the question with wide eyes, her white-blond hair gathered in thin pigtails.

My mother, on the other hand, had rushed upstairs upon hearing the news. She had, at once, declared that she was going to iron her good dress-she would be heading to town. But now, as we sat downstairs, we could hear her hushed voice through the thin wall of the ceiling, whispering quietly to my father over the phone. She was speaking of the recent homecoming, of course, and I could hear her voice filled with hope, as I'm sure my own had been earlier as I thought of the possibility of my brother being there.

"Yes," I said, hoping to sound excited and suspensful. "Real ones, maybe thirteen or fourteen of them!"

"Wow!" Their voices were like a chorus of bells, all different tones and ranges. They all wore the same expression-big eyes and raised eyebrows, as if hearing the most exciting news in all of their lives. Though, it probably was-in a small town like Arlington, you didn't get a lot of excitement.

"Are you sure? Real soldiers?"

I nodded again, and I couldn't help think back to Edward Cullen. He was one of the finest men I had ever met (not to mention the handsomest). But, truly, what were my chances of ever being with him? For one, there was his rank. I mean, who of his position would ever go with a small town, plain girl such as Bella Swan? And then there was the fact that just about every girl in the country, upon meeting him, had swooned as I did. Surely one had to catch his eyes-a beautiful one, no doubt, one like Lauren or May or Jessica. A girl that would be his match.

So my chances were practically none.

"Okay, children. I'm heading into town for some errands," My mother said as she descended the small staircase. Her eyes were slightly red around the edges, as if she had been crying. "Bella, you come with me. Oh, and Bethany, too. The rest of you will stay-and behave, I might add. I want no funny business while I'm gone, and make sure Lily doesn't step foot in the kitchen-you all remember what happened last time." She was referring to the time when Lily had accidentally lighted her hair on fire with the kitchen stove when my mother was out-it took a year for it to grow back to its normal length.

"Yay!" Beth squealed, delighted that she was among the chosen to head with us into town. She happened, though, to already have her special clothes on-she'd been a bit overly confident that she _would_ be going to town.

"Shh..." I shushed her, giving her a look.

She giggled, though this time muffled. "Oops," she said, "Sorry."

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"Is that _them?"_

This time, Beth's voice was even more full of wonder-_if_ that were even humanly possible. But it was, and as she continued to stare anxiously at the lingering men in uniforms, I thought her eyes would pop out from surprise.

We were huddled together inside Benetti's Ballroom, the nicest place in the entire town. While it wasn't exactly a ballroom, it was fancy enough that it was automatically assumed the place where the 'Welcome Home' party would take place.

They had their best silver out, displayed proudly next to the gold-lined plates, gleaming in the soft light. Billowy red velvet hung from doorways, windows, and ceilings, adding a regal atmosphere. Everything was set up so amazingly; I couldn't believe it. The only other time I had seen the room decorated like this was when the governor came to Arlington, and chose to dine here. It was a magical night full of ballroom dancing and fine dresses and suits...something our small town rarely saw.

Now, though, not many people were wearing gowns-and for that my mother sighed with relief. Most were just dressed in "church clothes" with floral prints and bright colors, as if they wanted to shout their glee with outfits.

"Yeah," I said, probably with just as amazement as Beth.

My mother, who had been standing in the middle of us, laid a hand on the small of our backs. "Come on, girls, we need to socialize."

We groaned in unison. The Swans-especially Bella and Bethany Swan-never _were_ exactly the social type, always sticking to themselves and minding their own business. She and I rarely talked to anyone outside of family, and now certainly wasn't going to be the starting point in our quest for popularity.

"Now, now," She said, giving us each a hard glare. "We are not _outcasts_." She spat the word with venom. "Got it? Now go." And with that conclusion, she pushed us each in different directions, me to the back of the room and Beth to the front.

I scanned the room for anyone I knew...or at least anyone I was friendly with. Dotty Sampson, but she was busy talking with a group of giggly girls-definitely not something I'd like to barge into. And then there was Harold Whindenberg...but he was always such a bore! Going on about this science and that science...I'd be surprised if his parents didn't usher him into college before his junior year was over. Then...oh my gosh...it was Lauren. And May. And Jessica. Did they go anywhere without each other? But who was that fourth person...?

Oh no.

Oh my God.

It was _him_. It was Edward Cullen.

He was standing with the three absolutely giddy girls, with an uneasy smile on his gorgeous face. He was in his uniform, but it was different, somehow...And then I realized. It was clean. Everything was clean-his skin, smooth and flushed a healthy cream color; his hair, which was even more brilliantly shining, bronze and untidy. He was even more beautiful now (if that were possible).

I couldn't let him see me. Not with _them_around. Those stupid, conniving little brats that think they can get whatever they want, especially when it came to men. Those idiotic, completely ridiculous, selfish..._Oh my God_. He just looked over here. Maybe if I could slowly sneak away...maybe if I could hide my face, he won't say or do anything...maybe...

"Miss Swan?"

Oh. Shit.

"Oh!" I turned around sheepishly, trying to hide my burning cheeks. "Mr...um...Lieutenant General Cullen...How do you do? Have you had a nice evening?" My sentences were choppy and short, and even as he stared at me, about eight feet away, I could swear he could hear the frantic thrumming of my heart.

He grinned, no longer looking uneasy. It was beautiful, of course, and sent my already skipping heart into a higher notch on the invisible metronome. "Yes, yes. My evening has been lovely, especially now that I am graced with your presence."

Lauren, at this particular moment, was glaring daggers into me with her icy blue eyes. One hand was poised on her hip, her bright red lips in a thin line. Upon seeing this, I visibly gulped and turned three shades a deeper red. This, I decided, was exactly the opposite of what I needed right now. "T-thank you, Sir..." I looked down at my feet. "Lauren." I tried to speak with confidence in my short greeting to her, though I was still flustered by a certain person's presence.

"Isabella," She spat, and I looked up to see that she was eyeing Edward carefully, almost as if she was examining him. She continued, still facing him. "So, Edward, do you have an _acquaintance_ with Miss Swan. You spoke her name as if she was an old friend."

He raised an eyebrow, smirking at me. "We actually met this afternoon. Under some strange circumstances, I might add..."

He was playing. I smiled nervously, and tried not to look him in the eye. "It was indeed," I said, fidgeting uneasily with the hem of my dress. "An unusual circumstance. I'm a bit ashamed, actually, that you had to see me at my worst. I'm unbearably stubborn, and I still don't forgive myself for letting you pay the extra money for my oil."

"He what?"

"She what?"

"They what?"

May, Jessica, and Lauren all spoke at once, so shocked that they stood up from the table, their silverware clinking noisily across the white cloth. I could hear Edward snickering quietly, as if he was enjoying himself.

I, however, was definitely not enjoying myself. In fact, I just wished I could find some large rock in a secluded place and bury myself under it, never coming out again. And, from the looks on the girls' faces, I could tell they wished something along those lines for me, too.

"Nonsense. Didn't I tell you it was what any gentleman would have done? Now, come join us. I'm sure Miss Mallory won't mind." He paused to look at Lauren, as if it were a command, and not a suggestion.

"Of course." She said angrily, speaking through her teeth.

I walked slowly over to their half-filled table, making sure not to trip. Although, I'm sure this situation could not possibly get any worse. But I still put one foot in front of the other, taking great care that my weight was perfectly balanced before I took a single step more. It was only a distance of about eight feet, as I said, but it felt like the longest walk of my life.

By the time I got there, Edward was already standing up, pulling out the free chair next to him. He motioned for me to sit down, waiting patiently as I smoothed the invisible creases in my dress. Once he was sure I was finished, he gently pushed me closer to the table, leaving just enough space so that I wasn't too far away, and that I could actually breathe.

"So, Bella, what is it that you enjoy doing in this small town?" Edward had a certain sparkle in his eye, as if he was truly interested, and not just making small talk to ease the now-awkward silences.

I hesitated. "Well, there's not exactly much to do, here, sir-"

"Please. I did tell you to call me Edward, didn't I?"

"Oh. Right. Well, Edward, like I said-there's not exactly a lot of things to do to have fun. Of course, that doesn't mean that there's not a lot to occupy oneself with. There's always a job to do...that's what my father says. So whether it's helping out at Mahoney's Marketplace, or handling the grinder at Humphrey's Meat Market, you can always offer a hand." I paused, thinking. "Oh, but I_ do_ suppose I like to read..."

Lauren cut in, snickering. "Ugh. It's so disgusting. I mean, every waking moment I see her nose stuffed in some stupid book. God, isn't it pathetic, Edward?" As if on cue, May and Jessica went into a sudden spasm of giggles.

"Well, actually, no."

The laughter stopped just as abruptly as it had started, and all girls looked down uncertainly at their hands, trying to hide their shame in the fact that they had just made complete and total idiots of themselves.

"Because I love to read. Well, I guess there's not exactly enough time to pleasure oneself with a book where I've been for the past few years, but..." He stopped, but continued after a moment. "I used to love to read, I should say. Tell me, Bella, what exactly do you favor?"

"Oh!" All of my previous uncertainties yielded at this moment, the nervous barrier fading away. "Well, I absolutely love Jane Austen. You know, the classics? I have to say, I'm a sucker for romance novels. It's a guilty pleasure. And then, of course, that includes Emily Bronte and Shakespear..." I sighed. Once I was started on books, I could never seem to stop.

He smiled. _"'For naught so vile that on the earth doth live. But to the earth some special good doth give; Nor aught so good but, strain'd from that fair use, Revolts from true birth, stumbling on the abuse: Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied; And vice sometimes by action dignified.'"_

My eyes widened. "Romeo and Juliet," I whispered.

Never in my life had I met a man that was able to quote Shakespeare, much less with so much passion. And now, sitting here with a girl that could only be described as my mortal enemy and a boy that I'd met only a few hours ago, I found myself gaping open-mouthed at the perfectly formed words. A feeling was surging through me...a feeling of infatuation, of admiration...

Edward grinned.

"Okay, this is SO stupid! God, I mean, do you even understand any of that?" Lauren whined, pouting.

"Yeah. So stupid." May agreed, flipping a lock of her red-orange hair. "I mean, just because little Bella knows a thing or two about books, Edward honey, doesn't mean anything."

"Yeah," Lauren continued. "She's not even that special. All day she just sits alone, all by herself with a big, fat book on her lap. Never talks to anyone. Maybe it's because she has no friends." She smirked, and bent down in my face. "Maybe it's because she came from a freako family, a wierd mother."

That was _it_. No one insulted my family-especially my mom. The sudden burst of rage just built on the already kindling fire I' had waiting for her, and this just poured a gallon of gasoline on it. I picked up the nearest thing-a glass of dark red wine.

Perfect.

"OH MY GOD!" Lauren's scream could be heard in a shrill echo throughout the room, bouncing off the creamy white walls. She frantically grabbed the tablecloth, patting it along her now-blood red, previously white, dress, in an effort to soak the wine up. But I knew it wouldn't come out. I'd tried to clean my mother's shirt, once, when she'd accidentally spilt it at a party.

"Oh, I am so sorry Lauren," I said, smirking angrily, and turned swiftly in the direction of the door.

Before I stepped outside, I pivoted once more. "Oh, and I _do_ apologize, Lieutenant General Cullen, for cutting our conversation short." I paused, trying not to look at his awe-struck face. "It really _is_ too bad-I'd actually been enjoying myself."

And with that, I stepped outside into the cool evening air.

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**Yay! Once again, thank you so much for the reviews! They really do, believe it or not, make me update faster. ****So, if you want another chapter with Edward-y goodness, please REVIEW!**

**bElLe**


	4. Rain

**Hey guys, Belle here...obviously. Anyway, I have some GREAT news: my new website is up. It's full of stuff for my CHAPTER-ED stories, meaning that the only stories I wrote with multiple chapters are included in there. So that includes War, By Moonlight, and it's sequel (don't get too excited yet, it's not posted) By Starlight. That will be available soon, though, and you know I'll tell you guys when it is. So go ahead, go to freewebs. com/xlolliluvax! YAY!**

**Oh yeah, and thanks SO much for the reviews: 85 for just three chapters! And for all you hotshots out there who are saying "85 reviews? PSHH...I get that many in _one_ chapter!" Yeah, I have one thing to say to you guys...**

**Screw. You. **

**Cause ya know what? Eighty freaking five reviews is a lot for me, okay? So why don't you take your big Paramount studios away from my little Indie films, and go get nine hundred reviews on your next chapter, cause _obviously_ this little story is too _unfamous _for you. POWER TO THE TINY AUTHORS!**

**Oh yeah, and since I'm rattling on, SHOULDN'T YOU ALL KNOW BY NOW THAT THIS IS _NOT,_ AND I REPEAT_, _IS_ NOT_ A STORY BY STEPHENIE MEYER? If it was, don't ya think I would have more reviews?**

**...**

**Ah, just read.**

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Ah, damn.

My feet sloshed angrily through the amazingly deep mud puddles, already soaked to the point where I believed it would surely take ages to dry. But even as the thousands of freezing droplets pounded on my now-throbbing head, even as the dark brown wet spots that were quickly accumulating on my stockings seemed to multiply every half second, I didn't stop once or even slow my pace.

No, I was much too stubborn for that.

Although I was quite pleased with myself for delivering the oh-so-clever, spur-of-the-moment, not-so-accidental spill of my deliciously dark wine on the front of Lauren's crisp white church dress, I had, in my haste, failed to realize the harsh conditions of the world outside of the protective inside walls. The sky had, since I had stepped into the Ballroom, decided that now was the perfect time to pour out all of its crystallized, freezing, wet goodness in buckets. In damn large buckets, too.

There is a saying that "idle hands make for the devil's work". My mother, being the stern woman that she is and always was, had repeated it on more than one occasion in my childhood-usually when one of us kids was slacking or refusing to do our chores. She had said that the saying meant children who were left with nothing to do allowed minds to wander to _less_ than appropriate behaviors.

And so I thought of Edward Cullen.

Of course, it wasn't as if he had _ever_ managed to escape my mind this evening- although I tried to force him out every time he made an appearance in my thoughts. This disturbed me, as it had when I'd previously had the same thought earlier this afternoon; why was I not able to get him out of my mind? He was just another soldier; another boy. Just another charming, witty, clever, upstanding, confident, ridiculously good-looking boy with incredible taste in novels, that just might, by any slim chance, be interested in me.

_Oh, shut up, Bella._ My mind, of course was aways there to shoot down my glimmers of hope.

But, of course, I always tried to counter-attack. _Hey, a girl can dream, can't she? _I snorted, and pushed the opposing team back to the dark corner of my mind.

And so I did.

I imagined Edward Cullen, grinning lopsidedly (and simultaneously gorgeously) at me, with not one more person in the room. It was just me and him, and of course, a sunny, cloudless sky. His beautiful bronze hair shone in the sunlight, a piece hanging loosely in front of his dazzling eyes. Those emerald irises, boring into my own as he moved toward me, lips forming soft words...

"Bella!"

I stopped my daydream for a moment, surprised. Well, that was weird. Of course, amazingly realistic and altogether perfect...but wierd. Definitely not how I imagined him sounding...at least, in this scene. I'd expected his voice to be soft; alluring; unbelievably velvety smooth, as it always was when he was speaking. But now, he seemed almost...frustrated, worried.

But, of course, I shook that though off, and got back to the part where he was almost ready to kiss me.

_"Bella!"_

Okay. Definitely not fitting.

And, when I thought about it, his voice did seem rather distant, like he was far away. And, to add to the strange qualities of the sound, he sounded tired. Did I catch a hint of breathlessness? Well...I suppose it's just another weird factor to this abnormal night...

"DAMN IT, BELLA, WILL YOU _PLEASE_, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, _JUST STOP WALKING_?"

"Oh!" Realizing that this was, in fact, not a figment of my apparently active imagination, and that someone in real life was actually speaking to me, I turned around. At least I _tried_ to, except, in my shock, I found myself barreling towards the wet, sludge-coated earth. At least I was lucky enough to land in an abnormally large, foot-deep muddy puddle that had accumulated on the side of the road.

Not.

Edward immediately rushed over to me, a worried look on his perfect face (_had_ I not been trying to cough up all the wet dirt that had gone down the back of my throat, I would have informed him that it wasn't right for angels to be worried). He stooped down beside me in the mud-no doubt ruining his uniform-squatting at the edge of the puddle. "Are you hurt, Bella? I truly did _not_mean for you to slip-I just wanted you to slow down!" He paused, his features changing as he chuckled. "You actually run quite fast for a wine-chucking, amazingly stubborn, apparently inattentive girl, you know that?"

I smirked, not amused. "Ha. Ha." Maybe if I hadn't been covered in gross muck, my hair a complete mess, and my favorite dress not completely ruined, I would have been in a better mood.

He sensed my annoyance, and grimaced. "Sorry."

I didn't reply.

He continued. "But how was I supposed to know that you are completely uncoordinated? And, if you had even been paying attention to your surroundings, maybe you wouldn't have been so surprised. It's really not my fault, when you think of it. "

_Well, yeah I wasn't paying attention to my surroundings. I was paying attention to my unbelievable daydream about this incredible soldier that seems to have me infatuated in less than six hours._ "Well, that's not true! I was...well...I was..."

"Sure." He raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

"No! Really! I-"

"Look, Bella, just because you are shocked by my mere presence, does not mean that you have to fall into a large puddle of mud." He was really enjoying himself now, with a large grin plastered on his face.

"Ugh!" He was impossible. Frustrated and saying no more, I tried to get up, wiggling this way and that and pushing behind me with my forearms. But to no avail. All I ended up doing was looking like a complete idiot, sliding and slipping in the stupid puddle.

Edward watched me with amusement for a few moments, that perfect eyebrow pleasantly arched. After seeing that I would, in fact, not be getting up any time soon, he stood up. Now he was towering over me in my current position, like some sort of giant. A gorgeous angel giant, of course, but I tried not to pay attention to that.

He didn't notice my staring, and stuck out on long, pale hand. After a dazed moment, I realized that he was offering it to me as an escape from this death-trap water hole. Gratified, I took it, eager to get up and squeeze the water out of my thousand-pound dress. But, as I leaned all my weight on to my legs and Edward pulled my upper body up, I suddenly collapsed back into the water, the mud yet again splashing all around me. This time, it didn't matter, because I was currently focused on the excruciating pain shooting through my left ankle.

I winced. I looked up at Edward accusingly and whimpered, "You broke my ankle!"

His face was no longer kidding, but slightly pale. "Shit." He paused, looking at me quickly. "I mean shoot."

He was worrying about rudeness when I just told him I'd broken my ankle? This boy was unbelievable. "Edward," I said slowly, looking up at him with serious eyes, "I don't give a damn whether you swear until the world stops turning. But will you _please,_ for the love of God," He smiled at my use of his words from earlier. "Just get me up from here!"

After a few blank stares, he understood. _Gosh, this boy could be dense when he was panicked,_ I thought briefly, until I had to focus on him lifting me up onto my feet.

Or foot, I suppose, depending on which way you looked at it.

"Okay," I said, looking him directly in the eyes to explain the plan. However, instead of starting to give a lecture on what we were going to do and how we were going to do it, I was lost. Unable to speak, I just gazed dreamily into those amazing emeralds, still dazzling through the pounding rain. I could stay here forever, if only I was able to...if only he'd let me.

"Have a plan, Miss Swan?" He broke me out of my reverie, and all too soon. He wore that amazing crooked smile, the one that made my heart melt until I thought there would just be a small, helpless puddle.

I paused, trying to think while he was looking at me like that. "Well...I...Um..."

"Exactly. Which means we'll be doing things _my_way." I was about to ask what exactly he meant by that, until he began his "master plan". To start, he took off his coat to reveal a crisp white, airy shirt, placing the thick, coarse coat around my shoulders. Instantly, I felt cozier and...safer. Something about having a part of Edward, if not him himself, so close to me, was very warming, like nothing would happen to me.

But then my wish to have Edward so close to me was granted, as I soon found myself being lifted off the ground. I screamed, watching as he started to walk, me cradled bridal style against his chest. "Put me down, this instant!" I wasn't worried about him dropping me-of course not-but of us being caught in this rather compromising position. After all, had I not know him for less than seven hours?

He only responded to my panic with mere amusement. "Ah, I believe you have found your voice again, Miss Swan."

"Put me _down_!"

"Nope."

"Please?"

"Nope."

"Ugh! You are the most insufferable, intolerable, annoying man on this planet!" I huffed and made sure to glare at him. Those stupid, beautiful green orbs only stared at me back, wicked humor dancing in their irises. I gave one last stubborn sigh, for the sake of being stubborn, and finally rested my head against his chest.

His chest, I soon found the moment I lay my head against it, was hard; chiseled, the thin, now-soaked cotton fabric of his shirt not giving any sort of cushion. I wondered vaguely if all soldiers had this sort of chest...or if it was just another display of perfection by Edward Cullen. And then, as I thought, I answered myself: it was probably the latter.

Okay, so maybe I _could_ get used to him carrying me, if I tried hard enough.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"What's your favorite color?"

I frowned. "Come on, Edward. Don't coddle me with annoying, easy questions. You probably don't care to know what my favorite color is, but inside you're itching to know my deepest, darkest secrets...that's the idea of Lies."

"But I _do_ want to know your favorite color."

I sighed. As we had been walking, I suggested playing a game to pass the time. Of course, he having been at war for the past few years and having no time to play silly little games (and plus, come on: he was a guy), it was I who suggested playing a favorite childhood game called "Lies".

Lies was, in fact, about just the opposite. You were to tell the truth, the only truth, and nothing but the truth. You took turns asking questions about serious things, and if the other person lied or couldn't answer, it counted as a forfeit and you won, usually just for amazing bragging rights. It was something I'd only played with my sisters, when I wanted to know something they were hiding. The idea that they wouldn't _want _to play never occurred to me; Swans were, and always had been, extremely competitive people.

Edward and I were playing for something, though, and I was determined to win. We agreed that, by any slim chance, if he were to win, he would get his choosing of how he would pay me back for injuring me. If I however, was the winner, then he would not be paying me back at all (I never liked people giving me things, and "paying back" was just as bad).

"Fine. My favorite color is blue. Happy?" To my surprise, he actually looked like he was storing that in his brain, that it actually mattered. Quickly, I continued. "But I'm not going easy on you, so don't count on 'what's your favorite book'."

He laughed. "Go ahead, shoot."

I had a million questions buzzing around in my brain-far too many to ask in just one game of Lies. So I picked the easiest one. "Why did you go to war?"

His face got serious for a moment, and he didn't respond. I worried that it was too personal of question for this early in the game. but before I could say anything, he gave a half-hearted smile. "The reason a lot of men do: I wanted to do something for my country, to keep it safe from anyone who threatened our strong bond."

He sounded just like my brother. Before going to war, when we would ask him why he was doing this, he would respond proudly, his chest high, "I am going to war because it's right. Am I not a coward if I sit back and watch while my brothers are killed doing the deed that I would not?" We would cry no, that he wasn't a coward, just stay with us...stay with us Larry...we need you here...

The memory of him stabbed at my heart, and, in my effort to soothe that, I spoke with bitterness. "But didn't you ever stop to think about what your family would say? How they would be hurt by your absence? Don't you know what it's like not to know if someone you love isn't coming back?"

"I believe that's more than one question," he said coldly, his eyes hardening.

I wanted to argue, but the look on his face told me not to tread into this water any deeper. "Fine," I said, a little less harshly. "I guess it _is _your turn by now."

"What is your beau's name? The one that you were looking for today on the porch of the grocery shop."

I froze, and I could tell that he noticed my now-tense posture. I was stiff in his arms, I was sure, and he tightened his hold. "I-I wasn't looking for my _beau_...I was looking for my brother, Larry. It was a lost cause, though, because he's not in the army..." I stuttered, suddenly nervous. I didn't know why, but somehow it just felt different discussing my beau (or lack thereof) in front of Edward.

His face seemed unnaturally curious now. "Larry? If he's not in the army, why were you looking for him? And where is your beau, if that's not who you were looking for?"

I smirked, relieved to repeat his earlier answer. "I believe that's more than one question."

"But-"

"Ow! You touched my ankle..." I whimpered, looking up at him with what I hope looked like sad, helpless eyes.

I was lying. The unbearable shooting pain had reduced to a monotonous throbbing over the time span that we had spent walking; or rather, the time span that he had spent walking with me in his arms. The rain, too, had slowed, and it was now only a slight drizzle.

My little stunt worked, though, to my great pleasure. His face immediately softened, the beautiful green orbs that were his eyes melting into a delicious mix of liquid gold and peridot. He smiled slightly, and bent his head down to kiss my ankle gently. "I apologize deeply, Miss Swan, for being both the cause and continuation of your injury."

The place where his lips touched my skin burned with such ferocity that I could hardly hold back the gasp that appeared in the back of my throat. I ached to touch it, to feel the amazing fire that had built just from him touching me with the slightest of pressure, but was afraid that he'd never want to speak or go near me again.

"I suppose it's your turn, now."

His statement brought me out of my thoughts, and I immediately snapped back to attention. "Right," I said, and began to think.

It didn't take long. I knew that this had been a question burning in the back of my brain the entire time we had been walking; even the entire time that I'd known him. "Edward," I said slowly, making sure I didn't come across jokingly. "Edward Cullen, I have a question to ask you that will require a lot more explanation than a one-word answer. Can you _promise_ me that you'll answer it to its fullest extent?"

He raised an eyebrow, but nodded.

"Edward, why do you care so much about what happens to me? And don't tell me you're being polite, because I know of quite a few men who would have just ran away and left me lying there in the street."

He paused looked straight ahead, as if he were thinking very hard. "I..." He began, but paused yet again.

"You...?"

Finally, he looked down at me, his intense gaze penetrating mine. "Throughout my three years in war, Bella, I've seen more than you probably ever will in your entire _lifetime_, even if you were to have another hundred years to live. I've seen my mentors, my idols, my best friends drop dead beside me, and never have I ever stopped to try to help them._ They're already gone, Edward,_ I would say._ You have to keep going. They can help themselves. _I'd not look twice at them again. And so it has been that way for three long years." Another pause. "...Until now."

My eyes widened.

"I don't know what happened, Bella, but somehow, something within me told me to follow you when you ran out of that place back there. And then, not knowing whether you were hurt or not-the very _idea_ that I had caused you pain in any way-made me stop and try to help you up. It was a strangely involuntary force, the need to help you up again. It's been that way since I met you this afternoon, and I don't know what's causing it..." He trailed off, and I sensed that he was now in deep thought.

"Wow," I breathe, and it was the only thing I could utter.

He had just described the exact same way I felt about him. It was like an invisible, yet ultimately powerful connection; minus the fact that I was the one being saved, and not him. But even so, it was nice to know that he understood what I was feeling.

"Yes, I believe 'Wow' is an accurate way to put it." He chuckled and looked down at my face again, noticing something. "And now, Miss Bella Swan, you shall go to sleep. You can use the rest-we've been talking for quite sometime."

"But I still have more questions for you!"

"Ah, and I you. But you need to sleep. And don't worry, we'll finish our game another time-I can promise you." He laughed, a musical sound that might have been the best I've ever heard in my life ( I made a mental note to make him laugh more often). "And besides, why would I give up when it's my turn?"

"I'm going to take you up on that promise..." My voice was already groggy with sleep, and I could feel the dark unconsciousness starting to sweep me away.

"Of course. And Bella," He smiled beautifully. "_Goodnight, Goodnight, for parting is such sweet sorrow. That I shall say goodbye, till it be morrow..."_

Romeo's sweetly spoken words were the last thing I heard before I was drifting away.

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**Ha! _Extra_ long chapter, and I really hope you like! I personally enjoyed the last part there, when Edward is quoting Romeo (how many of you got that, by the way, before Bella told you that those were Romeo's lines?)**

**Anyways, thanks to all who have reviewed; see? I TOLD you that reviewing makes me update faster!! So go ahead, push that fantastically gorgeous blue button on the left-bottom side of the screen!!**

**Belle**


	5. Visits

**Once again, thank you ALL so much for reading and enjoying (and for some of you, reviewing) my story! To tell the truth, I find it just as much fun-if not more fun-writing this as By Moonlight. World War Two is one of my all-time favorite periods in history to study. In fact, before I decided to go into the medical field (for practical reasons, money being the first of those reasons), I wanted to be a WWII historian. But, alas, that never came true.**

**Anyway, I'd like to point out a fact that one of my observant readers noticed, and pointed out. How many of you noticed that, in the summary of War, it stated (after all the actual facts) that this story was PART ONE!! Yes, and I do mean the FIRST PART! There are two parts to this story as a whole, and War is just the first part. Which is why, you see, when you get to the end of this story you will notice that it leaves you a bit hanging...don't worry, I'm not going to tell you :) You'll have to see for yourself!**

**So go ahead, enjoy!**

* * *

I awoke the next morning to find myself laying in my small, rickety bed, the covers half on my body and half on the floor. I groaned-this seemed to happen a lot more often than I was comfortable with. Yawning, I straightened my legs from their crouched position, stretching out my sore muscles. The bright sun shining through my pale curtains signaled me that it was afternoon.

That was weird. My parents usually had me get up-if I had not been up already-before the _sun_ even awoke. Why they would let me sleep in was strange-was there a holiday that I didn't know about?

Although it _was _nice laying motionless in my inviting and quite comfortable bed, I knew it was time for me to "wake up". Tugging the quilt that lay entangled in my legs off of me, I quickly hopped out of bed, making sure my jump was powerful enough to tell the whole house that I was now ready for anything they threw at me.

But then again, maybe my blood-curling scream did that for me.

"Bella?" My mother suddenly rushed in, my father and siblings behind her. "Bella, honey, what's wrong?" But she didn't need me to answer. All she had to do was take a look at me, lying back on the bed, with my hands clutching my calf and my teeth practically piercing through my bottom lip in agony. "Oh, dear! Bella, why would you do that? You know your ankle is broken!"

"Yeah, Bells, I don't think jumping on it is going to ease the pain any more," A boy's voice snickered.

"Good one, Leo."

"Thanks, Theo."

I heard the slap of hands, and then more laughing until a different slap was heard, and then the laughing abruptly stopped. Hearing this, I didn't need to look to know that it was Theo and Leo, my unruly and sometimes unbearable twin brothers. They were both fourteen, and you would need to live with them to know which boy was which, for they both had identical wheat locks and blue eyes and a chip-toothed smile. They were the spitting image of my father.

"Bella, are you alright?" I could hear my mother's voice again, and I opened my eyes. They were blurry from the painful tears that had formed there, but I could make out her worried features as she bent over me.

"Yes...I think it's slowing now. I just...forgot..."

'And the pain _was_ slowly subsiding. The pressure, of course, had brought on a wave of hammering throbs, but it was better than I remembered the night before, when I actually tried to get up on it.

_The night before_...That reminded me, and suddenly all of last night's images came flooding back into my brain. There was me, chucking the glass of wine onto Lauren...someone calling my name...a deep, muddy puddle...And then there was the most important thing, the most_ prominent_ thing. "Mother? Who...how did I get back here last night?"

Her face widened into a bright smile now, all traces of worry gone. "Oh, Bella, the most wonderful boy returned you home last night! A soldier, I could tell from his uniform. Oh, and the most handsome one, too, with the most dazzling green eyes! You would have adored him, if you had been conscious...I almost fainted on the spot myself!"

"Renee..." My father warned, obviously not wanting to hear this part.

"Oh, calm down Charlie. You know that I love you. But if only I was a few years younger..." Her grin widened, and she winked at me. I swear, sometimes my mom was just like a thirteen year old.

"Mom?" I said, weary.

"Yes, dear?"

"Was, by any chance, the name of this boy-"

_Knock. Knock. Knock._Three raps on the door made my mother suddenly sit up straight. By the time I even had the chance to react, she already was starting to stand up from her previous position. Giving me a quick glance that said 'I'm sorry', she turned around and rushed down the stairs, a few moments after being followed by the rest of the family.

I lay anxiously, waiting to see who it would be. I knew for a fact that Edward had brought me back here last night (how he knew where I lived was beyond me), and that it was he who had spoken to my mother. After all, how many gorgeous, tall, green-eyed soldiers were in Arlington?

Although I tried to convince myself otherwise, I was hoping that it was him at the door. I was hoping that he'd come to see me, to check in on how I was feeling (hadn't he been so concerned last night? Or was I dreaming of when he confessed all of those glorious things to me?). I was hoping that he would spend a long time with me; hoping that he didn't have anything else planned today.

My mother's next words only got me more excited.

"Bella, dear! You have a _visitor_!" Her tone was a bit hard to read, especially when she was yelling to me from downstairs. But the accented word 'visitor' gave me enough to get from the implication.

And then it occurred to me: what was I wearing? What the hell did I look like? I knew the answer to that: a zombie coming back from the dead, as I did every morning.

Scrambling for a mirror, I confirmed what I had thought with dread. My hair was sticking out in every direction possible and my eyes, rimmed with red, carried dark bags the color of black and blue. I groaned-what could I do to even _help_ this wreck?

I jumped up from my bed, careful this time to only land on my good foot, and awkwardly hobbled over to my nightstand. I grabbed my face powder, first, already open from going into town the day before, and wiped it along my skin-although I was already so pale and clear-skinned that I barely needed to do anything excepting my eyes. After I was certain that there was not an inch uncovered, I moved on to apply a bit of red-tinted lip balm (it was too early in the morning for lipstick).

Now that my face was decent, I moved onto the haystack that was my hair.

This would be much harder to tame than my face. Carefully, I pulled the comb through the tangled locks, piece by piece. It was usually an extremely tedious task that took about an hour or so, but now I didn't have that time. I quickly worked, biting back the tears of pain that were gathered in my eyes as I yanked it through the knots.

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

_Ah, damn_, I thought, and gave one final tug. Looking in the mirror, I smiled-this was so much better than when I had woken up. My face looked refreshed and my hair almost smooth, which was _quite_ an accomplishment for me. My lips were only a light shade darker than their original color, but the fullness of them made up for that.

I practically sprinted back onto my bed as the door was starting to open.

Grinning like an idiot, I said excitedly, "Wow. It was about time you came. I was starting to think that I would get very lonely in here without someone to talk to."

"Wow, yourself, Bella-you sure look amazing for just waking up from painful sleep!"

And with that comment, my smile dropped abruptly.

Because standing there wasn't the amazing, beautiful, tall, bronze-haired boy I'd been expecting, grinning crookedly at me while I swooned until I thought I would faint. Instead, there was a skinny, big-toothed, _thing_ I could hardly even call human. My previous emotions-excitement, joy, elation-were shot down as if by a sharp, flaming arrow; my face turning darker than midnight.

I practically spat out venom with my next words.

"Listen, Tyler, do the words 'restraining order' mean anything to you? Or maybe the threat still hasn't registered in your tiny walnut shell you call a brain. If it hasn't, I'll tell you what it means: get the hell away from me!" I was seething.

Tyler didn't turn away; instead just coming closer to sit on the edge of my bed. "Aw, come on Bella, you know you were just kidding when you said that! We were meant to be together! Just think how much fun we had on that date last time!"

"Date? DATE? What are you talking about! You took me to the ice cream shop, only to spill your dark chocolate all over my dress! Then, you brought me to Lover's Rock where you tried to feel me up, but forgot that you didn't put your old car in park! I can _hardly_ call that a date, much less a fun one-can you, Tyler?" I narrowed my eyes, thinking about the last time I had spent time with Tyler.

Every day for a year Tyler Crowley would ask me to go out with him, whether it be a to a drive-in movie or a walk in the park. And every day, I would tell him to wait a hundred years, and then ask me again. But one afternoon, when he'd been especially annoying, I'd had it. I said sure, not knowing that by the end of the night I'd have a sprained wrist, a ruined dress, and a threat to get a lawyer the next time Mr. Crowley came near me.

"But, Bella-"

"Out!"

"But-"

"OUT! GO AWAY!"

Finally, he backed away, walking like a puppy with its tail between its legs after being yelled at by its master. "Don't let the door hit you on your way out," I hissed, sneering as I heard the heavy footsteps descending down our rickety stairs. It was mean, sure, but after the first few thousand times you would have thought he'd gotten the point.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I lay back not for more than three minutes before the next knock came.

_Knock. Knock._

"Bella, honey! You have another visitor!" My mother, a smile in her voice, called again from downstairs.

Oh my God. This _had _to be him! The footsteps were a lot quicker and lighter than Tyler's had been, but I just guessed that he'd gotten used to it from sneaking around when he was in the army. I freaked out, grabbing the mirror at the last second to check that I was still decent from when I'd last hurried around.

I closed my eyes, smiling as I heard the door open without a knock. "Listen, Mr. Cullen, you don't know how much trouble I got myself into when I'd thought you'd come earlier. But, I suppose it's worth it if you took time to visit the one you injured," I was teasing, my voice now light and airy.

"Who the hell is Mr. Cullen?" The voice in front of me squeaked.

My eyes shot open. "Oh my God, no-"

"Yes, yes, yes! It's you're favorite person in the entire world, back from Pa-ree!"

"Alice!" I grinned, looking at the tiny black-haired pixie before me. "When did you get back! Why didn't you tell me! Oh my gosh, how are you? Did you visit the Eiffel Tower? I've always wanted to do that!" My questions burst out of me like involuntary heartbeats, never pausing to rest or stop.

Alice Brandon was my best friend-in every sense of the word. We'd met each other long ago, when I was visiting my cousins in Arkansas and I'd broken my leg. It turned out that she had fractured her wrist the day before, and we'd shared a hospital room together for a few days. But even in that little time that we'd had to bond, we became nearly inseparable; but then again, the toughest, coldest person on the planet could love Alice Brandon.

Alice was amazingly wealthy...No, that was an understatement; her father owned a rather large business that produced and sold to the entire northeastern area of the country. While other businesses crumpled during the time of the Great Depression, Brandon and Miller Incorporated thrived as if we were in the middle of a business boom. And because of this, I was hardly ever able to see the person I ever been able to grow close to. While she spent her time in exotic foreign places I'd probably only ever have the chance to dream about, I was stuck in this Godforsaken little town with nothing better to do than watch grass grow.

It was incredible, actually, that we'd been able to keep such a bond throughout the years; it had, after all, been seven long winters since I'd last seen her in person. But we wrote letters so fervently, that it almost seemed as if it was the other day that I'd visited her.

Right now she stood before me, laughing delicately (anything that Alice did was exquisitely petite), while propping herself on her hands. "Calm down, Bella. You're going to give me a heart attack if I hear any more questions."

"Sorry, Alice, but I'm so excited to see you!"

Her look became soft. "Oh, Bella, I know. It's been so long..." And with that, she gathered me up in one of her infamous bone-crushing, breathtaking (in every literal sense of the word), spine snapping hugs. It always blew my mind how such a tiny person could force so much pressure onto another being.

Of course, the moment she walked into the room I felt unsuperior. Alice was gorgeous, and not one person she'd ever encountered could deny it. She had short, silky black hair that was too pretty to consider "rebellious", and a pure, milky complection that didn't have one bump or blemish across all of the area of its surface. Her eyes were wide and doe-like, and a color so dark that I'd always considered it black. There were no words beautiful enough to describe Alice, and I could feel my self-esteem go down a sufficient number of notches any time I was in the same room with her.

For twenty minutes we sat there, talking endlessly about nothing and everything; how much she enjoyed Paris (her latest travel destination), how my family was doing (same as always), if her sister grew a bit since she left (actually, she was now taller than her older sister, Alice), and if anything particularly exciting had happened since I last wrote.

I hesitated on this question. Was I ready to tell Alice yet of Edward Cullen? About how I felt about him? The idea that I would even hesitate in telling her anything struck me strangely; had I not spilled my deepest secrets to her over our years of friendship?

She was still looking at me expectantly, and I knew that she realized from my long silence that there had, in fact, been something. There was no way of getting out of this now.

"Well..." I began, but there was a quick rapping on the door.

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

I started to apologize, but Alice shushed me. "Don't worry," she said with a wink. "I'll come back again soon, and you can dish out all your juicy details then! Love you, Bella! _Au revoir_!" And with that, she danced out of the room, stopping quickly when she got to the door to raise her eyebrows at me.

She had seen who it was.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Oh. My. Lord.

Okay, this has to be him.

Right?

Yes. It has to be. There's no other possible person that would come and visit me.

My mind wouldn't stop going into "Freak Out Until My Chest Bursts From Nervousness" mode. After the previous two visits resulting from the visitor NOT being Edward Cullen, it was logically impossible for any other person to care enough to come visit me. After all, I was just an unnoticed daisy in a field of tulips. "Come in," I said warily, this time choosing not to make a risky comment until I knew it was him.

And then, once I saw the masculine leg poke in from behind the doorway, I exploded.

"Listen, I have waited all day for you to come visit! I mean, were you afraid to wake me up or something? Because you have no idea what kinds of things I went through this afternoon, when I thought people were you. It was embarrassing. Do you understand that? Now two people think that I'm obsessed with Edward Cullen. Two is a lot, when you think about-" And I stopped dead in my tracks.

Because, yet again, I had mistaken the visitor to be him.

God, now I really was going crazy. I mean, what if he was never planning to come in the first place? Wow. This was _beyond_ embarrassing. It was down-right mortifying. My cheeks reddened into a mixture of scarlet and maroon, and I felt no better than if I were dipped into a raging far.

I looked up to apologize to the actual visitor, to mumble something about thinking they were someone else. He was looking at me with a smile, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement. His hair was blond and perfectly combed; his clothes were nicer than most people who lived in this town. He was tan, and looked like the type that would enjoy spending his time golfing.

And then I realized.

This wasn't just a random visitor.

This was Mike Newton.

Mike Newton, the same boy who had made fun of me for being a "freako" all through grammar school. Mike Newton, who had thrown pieces of chewed taffy at my hair, forcing my to chop it all off until the longest strands barely reached my jaw. Mike Newton, who had pinned Jessica Stanley just two months ago, about week after they started going out. Mike Newton, who had made my life a living hell for eleven years, and had yet to say a kind thing towards me in all that time.

"Gee, Bells, I never knew you felt that way about me," he said, amusement clear in his sickeningly calm voice. Anytime I was near him, anytime he ever uttered a word to me or even looked my way, it felt like he was laughing or mocking me.

"What the hell do you want, Mr. Newton?"

"Wow, such venomous language, Miss Swan. Really, I never believed you were the type to swear-_especially_ in the presence of such a good old friend."

"We never were_ friends_, Mike," I hissed, glaring at him. I was hoping he got the message; the tacit command I was trying to send to him. I wanted him out of my room, out of my home. I didn't want him to be within a fifty-foot radius of my bed.

He didn't seem to get it. "Oh, come now, Bella. You don't have to be like that. Sure, we did have a few rough times in the past," He ignored my scoffing at his choice of words. "But can't you just be a little open-minded? Can't you at least try to hear me out on what I'm trying to say?"

I sighed. Maybe he _did_ want to apologize..."Go on."

"Okay, well, I've come to tell you just how sorry I am for whatever I've done to you in the past. And I know that just a little 'sorry' won't exactly mend al the wounds, but I think I have a way to help that." He paused, leaning closer to me. "Bella, I think you're really pretty and nice. Will you go with me to the carnival net Saturday? Please?" His blue eyes got wide, like a puppy's.

"Um...well...what about...J-Jessica?" I stuttered, trying to speak through my confused state.

He frowned. "I like Jessica, but I love you! Don't you understand?" He stopped to register my shocked face. "Well, I know that you may not feel the burning love I feel, but over time, you will! Just, pretty, pretty please, Bells?"

Did I really want this? What if it was just a stupid trick; a scam to, yet again, make me the laughing stock of Arlington. Heaven knows that he's done it before...

But maybe he _did_care for me? Maybe he really _did_ want to take me out with him, to apologize for all of the years of suffering and torture. And the fact that he and Jessica hadn't been seen together for at least a week...maybe he _wasn't_ lying about this whole thing...

"Yes."

His face lit up. "What was that?"

"Yes, Mike, I'll go with you."

"Oh, that's really great, Bella! Hey, I'll pick you up at your house around seven...is that okay? We'll probably be staying out late, too, if that's alright with your parents...Well, anyway, I gotta go now. See you later!" He gave me an awkward pat on the hip and smiled, turning around so he could quickly run out the door and down the stairs.

I groaned, plopping my head back for, hopefully, the last time today.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Edward wasn't coming. I just knew it.

After three false visitors and me thinking they were him, I didn't get my hopes up any longer that afternoon. And it wasn't wrong for him not to come. I mean, he did carry me al the way back to my house, in the rain, from God-knows-where we were on that empty street last night. And maybe he didn't even want to come...

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

"ARGHHH!" I screamed, throwing one of my pillows at the door.

This was really getting annoying. Why, all of a sudden, did everyone in Arlington want to come and visit me? It's not like I haven't broken bones before-I probably broke enough to cover the entire population of Illinois-and no one's cared enough to visit_ then_. I'd thought it would be nice to have a lot of people care, but now that I'd had it...

It was just goddamn annoying.

I didn't even take a minute to compose myself, or check in my mirror, or even open my eyes. I just slowly and drowsily muttered a "Come in," hoping that the visitor would just take it that I'd been sleeping nd would leave me alone.

When they came in, I heard them take off their coat and lay it on my beureau. They were_obviously_ not leaving any time soon.

And that's when I exploded.

"Dammit, what is _up_with you people? Can't you goddamn see that I was sleeping! Or are you blind-is that it? Geeze, what the _hell_ is up with people today? Tell me, who are you now? Lauren? Jessica? Or maybe it's Mr. Sentry, come to take wrath on me for being such a pain?" I paused, fuming. "Come on now, who are you?"

"Hello, Bella."

Oh.

Lord.

Slowly, I opened my eyes, not wanting to believe it was true. But, there he was, in all of his angelic glory. He was smiling crookedly-God bless him-though a slight sheet of confusion was masking his face. He looked like was at the stage where he was seriously contemplating whether I was mentally challenged or just insane. He was still in his uniform, and I wondered if they made him stay like that all the time.

My face was flushing furiously-more than it had all day. I mentally kicked myself for not being cautious the time that he actually came.

I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing left my tongue.

Seeing that I was speechless, he decided to do the talking. "You know, I came today to apologize for putting you into this inconveniency,hoping to clear out anything I might owe you." He paused, his smile growing wider. "But it ended up that I just owe a greater debt to you now, for providing me with such fine amusement."

If my blush could talk, at this moment everyone in Germany would hear its screams.

His grin grew soft, and I noticed how much better he looked when he smiled. I mentally noted to never make him anything but happy. "You really are adorable when you do that, Bella. It brings out your lovely features."

I finally found my voice, though it was threatening to break. "If you flatter me any more, Edward, I think I'm going to burst from all the blood rushing to my face." I rolled my eyes. "And besides, if you saw anyone else blush in town, I'm sure it would be much prettier than mine. When I do it, it just looks like a splotchy red tomato."

He shook his head. "Believe me, in a beautiful blushing contest, you would take first place without question."

"Mr. Cullen, have you really seen so many young women in this town that you would know who would win a beautiful, as you put it, blushing contest? Is there even a contest such as that?" I was teasing, a light tone coloring my voice.

But, even with my joke, his face became intense. "I don't need to know a thousand young ladies to know that you would be the best of them."

I tried to convince myself that he was kidding, just flattering me in this moment. I wouldn't ever believe it when it was coming from an angel such as himself. I was plain Bella Swan; was I not? I decided to change the subject. "So why exactly is it that you decided to grace me with your presence? Was it truly just to apologize? Because you did enough of that for both of us last night."

"Why should you apologize?"

"I'm inconveniencing you as much as you are me."

"That's hardly true."

I scoffed. "Please. Just get to the point. Why are you here?" He feigned hurt. "No, I mean, I'm glad you are, but seriously, why are you here? Don't you have some officer-ly war duties to attend to, rather than momentarily-crippled young women stuck in bed?"

He smiled. "Well, like I said. They're giving me a break on those sorts of things. Besides, the real reason I came was because I wanted to ask you to come to dinner with me tomorrow night."

What?

"What?"

"Bella, do you want to go out with me tomorrow?"

Wait.

What?

"Wait. What?"

He laughed at my face, and my apparent lack of words. "I wanted to be able to repay you properly," He explained, and when he saw my face change to annoyance, he continued. "I'm sure you believe that I don't need to do anything, but I do. I want to repay you, Bella, and it's not just that. I want to know you. Got it? So you can say no, but don't say it's because you don't want me to give you anything."

He wanted to know me? It felt like the words I'd waited my life for, and yet still seemed unreal; out of reach. How was it possible that such a...handsome, beautiful, gorgeous man wanted to know any part of me?

I opened my mouth, ready to make a witty comment or a sarcastic remark, the things I do best in an intense situation. I expected myself to say something about how no one one our little bet last night, so it didn't count, or how if he got to make something up to me, then why didn't I get to make something up to him. I expected myself to say no, to chicken out even, to tell him that I shouldn't be going out when my ankle was like this. I'd probably only make a fool of myself anyways, so why even go? But when I finally spoke, I didn't expect to come out of my mouth what actually did.

"Yes. Yes, Edward, I'd love to have dinner with you."

* * *

**Yay! Longest chapter so far, 5000 words!!**

**Thanks again, SO much, for those of you who reviewed, because I love you to the ends of the earth!**

**-Belle-**


	6. Date

**Disclaimer: Blah, Blah, Blah…yeah. I really don't understand why all this is needed. Geeze, I mean, if I were actually Stephenie Meyer, would I be writing on this site? But I guess…que sera, sera.**

**God. I hate those things.**

**Anywho, I'm really sorry it took so long to post this friggin chapter up. Believe me, though, when I say that it REALLY wasn't my fault. Somehow, someway, every file on my computer was erased from its memory. Yes, that's what I said: Every. Single. File. So that means all the different stories I started, the miscellaneous chapters I wrote (including this draft at the time), and-I'm sorry for those of you who were anxiously awaiting this especially-the premiere of my new story, "By Starlight", the sequel to **_**By Moonlight.**_

**So, yet again, I'm terribly sorry for the, er...inconvenience. I'm working on replenishing all of my lost work right now, but it will most likely take a long while.**

**Thanks for all your support!**

* * *

For the rest of the day, I don't think I had a single coherent thought.

I mostly lay in bed dreaming, the colors and pictures swirling around in my brain in a mass of blissful light. I dreamt of wine and rain, and muddy roads and silly question games. I dreamt of pounding soldiers' boots and throbbing ankles. I even dreamt of annoying door-knocking and false visitors.

But the one thing that reoccurred in all of my dreams was his face.

The angel's face. My addiction's face.

Edward's face.

Because that's how it seemed to me-like I was addicted to him. I craved his smell, his voice, his electrifying touch; I refused to believe that I would ever get enough of him. And although I had known him for less than forty-eight hours, it felt like I'd known him my entire life. I never wanted to be separated from him, and that scared me.

I believe in love. I believe that some people have found others that they are destined to be with, that they have discovered their other half. The only thing I'd never believed was that I was on of those people. I just always assumed that when I was being made, they forgot to put in a soul mate for me. You know, kind of like a, "Oops. Forgot one. Oh well," kind of thing. I thought that I would be a loner for the rest of me life.

And, oddly, that always seemed okay to me. Like I've said, I've always been the odd one out, even in my younger days. None of the other kids wanted to play with the girl who always had her nose stuck in a book, and I didn't want to play with them. They'd always seemed too immature, too kid-like. My mother used to tease me that I was born in my mid-forties and got older every day. But in the last two days, I've felt different. Almost in a giddy, dream-like state, even when I was wide awake.

As I was dwelling on this, I heard a soft knock.

"Come in," I said quietly.

The door creaked open slowly and carefully to reveal my father, a troubled look on his face. "Hello, Bells." He smiled at his old nickname for me, though it didn't quite touch his eyes.

"Something wrong?" I asked, my eyebrows furrowing instantly.

My father was getting old. He was still strong-the product of countless years of his earlier days working on his own father's farm-but his hair was getting grey, his bad leg slowing him down. At the corner of his eyes and lips were ancient laugh-lines, and anyone who knew him in his younger days swore he was quite the charmer. He never really was strict with us children (he left that job for my mother) so I was surprised to see such a serious look on his face now.

"Wrong? Oh, no, nothing terribly wrong," He said, coming over to sit on the edge of my small bed. I felt the mattress beneath me squeal with the added wait, but neither he nor I paid any attention to it.

"Bella," he began again, "You're growing up."

"Yes," I said in a half-strangled voice, trying to suppress the groan that almost escaped my throat. This was another _Talk_. I knew it. It explained the serious "I'm-a-parent-and-you'd-better-recognize-it" facade from the moment he walked in.

You see, Charlie Swan was never one for intimate conversations that went deeper than the weather. So when it came to expressing feelings or talking about "uncomfortable" subjects, he was never the first to volunteer. As a matter of fact, he wasn't the second, either. Or the third. Or fourth. He preferred to stay away from those matters, leaving it to my mother.

But every few months or so he'd come to me, catching me in a moment where I was alone and had a lot of time on my hands, always starting with "Bella, you're growing up," or, "Bella, you're starting to get older," or something of the sort. But whatever the subject was-getting pressured into doing things, my "Growing Body" (an especially awkward talk), how babies are made-it was always extremely uncomfortable on both parts, which only left me glowing red and wishing that it was my mother delivering the talks.

"And, I want you to know that your mother and I are always here if you need anything-you know, if you have a problem with someone or if they have a problem with you...you can always come talk to us. You do know that, correct?"

"Yes," I whispered, biting my lip.

"Bella, you're coming to an age where you're going to start considering your future husband. You know, look around at the eligible men, see who's available, who's already snatched-"

"Dad! You're making it seem like I'm going shopping for a new radio or something!" I groaned, throwing a pillow over my head.

"Well, all I'm saying is that you're getting to that age. And, at this age, men will be doing the same thing as you."

"Men are going shopping for husbands?"

I didn't have to uncover my face to see the dark look he threw me. "Isabella, I'd like you to take this seriously." He paused, but went on when I said nothing. "So, what I'm saying is that I'm expecting many different boys to be visiting this house, calling on you...Like today for instance. When that Crowley boy came-who is slightly odd, if I may say-followed by the Newtons ' son...and then there was Lieutenant General Cullen..."

I threw the pillow aside, sitting up abruptly. "Edward and I are just _friends_, father. Nothing deeper."

But my face was already turning ten shades brighter at the thought: Edward ever wanting to be more than friends with me. It didn't seem possible, though. People like Edward just didn't happen to people like Bella. It would be wrong, like matching a stallion to a mule or a brilliant parrot to a pigeon.

He gave me an unbelieving look, but continued. "Anyway, I just wanted you to know that there are going to be men out there who will want you to do things with them. You know...uh...remember that talk we had a while ago? About boys-"

"Watering my garden?" I grimaced. Yes, I remembered that conversation all too clearly.

"Exactly. Now, you have to keep your garden protected because once it's watered, it will never be the same again. And do you know how to protect it?" He didn't wait for an answer. "You have to think. It's all about your mind, Bella. You have to make the right choices and say the right things. Think Before You Fink."

"Yes, father, I know that but-wait. _What_?"

"Think Before You Fink. It's your new motto from now on. Because, sometimes, you'll be under a lot of pressure from men who want to water your garden. And for some of them, it will be the only thing on their minds. Believe me, sweetheart, I know; I was one of them once."

"And, so before I...um..._fink_, I have to think?"

"Exactly."

"Gee, er...thanks a lot Dad. I really benefited from this conversation." I tried to smile normally at him, but the realization that my father had just spoke to me about men and the 'watering of my garden' and Edward Cullen all in the same mess of sentences was putting me in a numb sort of after-shock.

But he smiled and started to get up. "I'm so glad, Bells. You know, you really took this in stride. I'm proud of you."

"Thanks Dad."

"Goodnight Bella. I love you."

"You too."

"And just remember-_Think Before You Fink_!"

I groaned. Sometimes I wondered if I was just dreaming all of the insane things that went through my father's head, and if I was truly related to him.

……………………………………………

The next day past excruciatingly slow.

For most it probably would have seemed like any other Friday, but for me it was, undoubtedly, the longest day of my life. The only thing I could think about was the fact that Edward Cullen would be coming by later to pick me up for a date.

_Date._ The word swirled dreamily in my head, making me feel as light as air. It was as if I was floating on a weightless cloud of satin and silk, although in reality I was thumping along clumsily with my ankle dragging along behind me.

My mother had insisted that I wrap about a thousand sheets around it, to train it for being walked on. She theorized that the weight would be overbearing, so that later when I was walking around on it, it would seem as light as cotton. However much I wanted to argue, I simply could not conjure up enough anger from my elated state to do anything but humor her.

I was ready two hours before the time Edward had told me he'd pick me up.

I wore a light, airy summer dress to match the unusually warm fall weather. It had been my mother's, and was passed down to me when I had turned sixteen. The dress itself was trimmed with silk and colored a royal blue so deep that it could not be found in our country. It had been given to her by one of her (apparently many) admirers in attempt to win her heart when she was young. He had been a French officer, and offered her the dress from his native homeland.

My mother had graciously accepted the present, although politely declined his offer of marriage.

But, truly, it was a special piece. The neckline was wide and swooped down and across my chest, the sleeves resting on my upper arms and leaving my shoulders bare. The fabric was soft and airy, and the dark color contrasted with my pale skin like a black night against the moon.

For my face and hair, my mother helped me. She applied a blood red lipstick to my already full lips, and a few swipes of black across my lashes. She, however, knew from living with me for seventeen years that I would not be in need of blush-I was perfectly capable of naturally supplying that, thank you. She left my hair down, brushing it out so that my natural waves appeared, making my hair softly cascade down my back.

Although I hadn't seen any of this yet (my mother insisted on only viewing the finished product, as if I were some sort of design that belonged to a company), she kept on insisting that oh it would look so pretty, and Bella you look like a different person. I mentally shrugged and hope to the great Lord in Heaven that she was right. And, as I slowly turned around to look in our only full-length mirror, I was afraid to open my eyes. But, when I did?

I was staring at a complete stranger.

In that rusty, peeling frame stood a petite young woman with a heart-shaped face and wide, doe-like eyes etched into a look of amazement. Her lips were pouted in an apple-colored "O", her skin looking almost as white as snow against the dark curls of her hair. Her navy dress hung exactly right on her shoulders, the pale skin creating an almost-glowing effect. I raised my hand to touch the beautiful stranger, and as I did, so did she. My expression became confused as I saw her cock her head to the side curiously. Hesitantly, I raised my other hand and, as I expected, so did she.

And then I realized the girl was me.

"Oh my-" I started to whisper, but was abruptly interrupted by a swift, hard knocking on the front door from downstairs. Immediately, my heart started to pound erratically, the beats inconstant and furious.

He must be here.

Edward.

At the same moment, my mother and I looked at each other. Both of our eyes were completely serious and wide, full of so many emotions. And then, as quickly and as suddenly as we had turned to each other, we erupted into a fit of high squeals and girlish screams. I felt like I was thirteen, and I was loving every second of it.

Moments like these were what my mother was best at. As wonderful a mother as I believed she was, I see her much more beautifully as a best friend.

"COMING!" I shouted excitedly down the stairs. I took one last second to let out a small giggle and headed down.

Well, "headed" would be an understatement. The correct term would probably be more like "sprinted" or "ran like I was being chased by the ghost of my grandmother". I was beyond surprised that, in my haste, I had only tripped once, and even then I had managed to catch myself on the side railing.

Now I was at the door, standing with my hand hovering hesitantly over the old knob. _You can do it Bella, _my mind assured me._ You're going to be going on the date of your life with the most gorgeous man in this universe. Besides, what have you got to loose? Even in this small town, you hardly have a reputation to uphold. _I sighed. Gee, what wonderful pepping my mind did me, huh? I shook that thought off and turned the knob, grinning like crazy as I opened the door.

"MICHAEL, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?" I shrieked, completely revolted by the sight of Mike Newton standing on my front porch, flowers in the hand that was stretched out to me.

For a minute, he just stared at me like he was a starved man viewing a ballroom feast. When he was able to finally talk, he stuttered, "W-wow, Bella. You sure clean up nicely."

"_Thanks_," I growled, sarcasm dripping from my tone. "But what I want to know is, _what the_-"

"Edward! It's so nice to see you agai-Newton? What the hell are you doing here?" The shocked voice of my father interrupted what I was going to say as he came into the room.

Well, at least you now know where I got my vocabulary from.

"That is exactly the point I was getting to, Dad," I sneered, glaring in the direction of the one thing that dented what was supposed to be my perfect night.

"Now, everyone, let's settle down. Mike, why don't you come in and sit down?" The calm, reassuring voice of my mother cut into our three-way conversation. I still didn't understand how she could keep her cool in awkward, abrupt situations such as these. I growled again as Mike gladly accepted her invitation and came inside, sitting in my father's chair.

"That," my dad said, glaring pointedly at the naïve boy, "Is. My. Chair."

You see, ever since what is known to our town as "The Corn Row Incident" (a rather hectic event in which Mike Newton decided to play a prank on my father by carving out a strange, illegible message in our crops, pretending to be an alien. Little did he know, his fatal mistake was accidentally leaving behind his wallet with his name, address, date of birth; any possible information about him was now accessible to my father), my dad had a special place in his heart reserved for Michael Newton.

A place for positively despising him.

"Newton, I think you best be getting out my chair right now, unless you want a good hiding." My father paused, thinking that over. "Actually, on second thought, stay in the damn chair. I'd much rather whip you with my leather belt like the four-year old you are than sit for a few minutes, anyway."

"Charlie," my mother warned. My father just sighed and backed down, grumbling as he took his placed beside me on the couch. She continued calmly, smiling as she looked at Mike. "Now, dear, tell me what's brought you to our house on this lovely evening. It's a rather unconventional hour, is it not?"

He smiled, somewhat creepily. "Actually, Ma'am, I've come to take Bella out."

"What?" She questioned.

"What!" My father demanded.

"WHAT?!" I shrieked.

No. This was not happening. This was not happening. This was not happening. It couldn't be-could it? This was _my_ day, my date with Edward! The absolute, most perfect day of my life! _Mike Newton_ wasn't supposed to take any part in it, much less take me out instead…

"Well, yeah. It turns out that I can't go with you next Saturday, Bells. The pops wants me to do a job for him. Anyway, I decided to come over here and surprise you! And, well…surprise!"

"Yes…" I forced a smile. "Surprise it truly is. Listen, Mike-" But, yet again, for the umpteenth time that night, I was interrupted, this time by a soft series of knocks on the door.

Is stood from my spot hesitantly, wanting to stall. I refused to believe it could be him right now-how mortifying would that be for him to come here right now while Mike Newton is waiting like some kind of dog wanting a piece of meat? I stepped slowly to the door, and braced myself for what was to happen next.

And, with my luck, there he was, standing like a gift from Heaven. Although his hair was still as disheveled as ever, his uniform (something I guessed they made him wear all the time) crisp and proudly boasting the numerous medals and achievements. He stood with that breathtaking crooked grin on his lips and a single blood red rose in his hand. Upon seeing me, his eyes widened slightly before drifting back to that calm, cool manner.

With the hand that was not holding the rose, he picked up one of my own and kissed it, sending my heart into exploding, short bursts. "You looked absolutely stunning tonight, Miss Swan," he said in his soft, velvet voice. He handed me the rose, his fingers brushing against mine so subtly that only I noticed. I wondered if he did this on purpose, just to drive me crazy.

"_Ahem_." I heard Mike's gruff voice call out behind me.

"Oh, shut that hole in your face you call a mouth, Newton. You're just upset that Edward offered my daughter a much better compliment than anything you could ever come up with, combined." My father said smugly, eyeing Mike with distaste as I turned a bright crimson. And then I realized:

Mike was here to bring me on a date.

Edward was here to bring me on a date.

Ugh. This was going to be an extremely long, painful evening.

* * *

**Yay! FRIGGIN FINALLY!**

**And that's all Ah gotta say 'bout that.**


	7. Carnival

**Disclaimer: Do I even have to tell you?**

**Thanks so much yet again for your support and understanding of my problems (by the way, it ended up that everything is fine. I just have a few drama queens in my family that tend to over-exaggerate when everything is just fine and dandy. Yep, it's my life). What can I say? When life gives you lemons, you can bet your ass there are gonna be seeds in them. Unfortunately, my recent seeds have multiplied into little lemon seed colonies and are currently planning to take over my mind. So...yeah. Glad you understand.**

* * *

The silence was driving me insane.

You know what kind of silence I mean-the one where no one has anything to say because the moment is too awkward, and even if they do, they don't want to say it because it will just add to the all-too-uncomfortable factors of the conversation (or lack thereof)? The kind where you're wedged on a two person love seat in between two men who both happen to think that they're going to take you out that night? The kind where, of course, your mother is making heavy sighs and your father sitting right across from you, grumbling at every slight twitch the man to your right makes in attempt to become comfortable?

Yep. That kind.

"Well," my mother said, giving a smile. Well, technically a smile, but more likely to be called a weary, I'm-not-actually-doing-this-because-I-want-to-but-because-I-need-to kind of smile. "This is quite a...predicament, isn't it?"

We all just stared at her.

Taking one look at our vacuous expressions and ultimately deciding that nothing would come out of her forced politeness, she gave a final, exasperated huff and stood up. "I'm going to make tea. Would you like any, dear? Bella, darling? General? Michael?" She didn't wait for any of our responses as she scurried into the kitchen, her green linen dress flowing swiftly behind her.

My father stood up, too, awkwardly shifting his eyes around. "Yeah...uh...I'm going with her." And he quickly continued to follow her into the safety our small kitchen, his heavy shoes thumping along our creaking wooden floor.

And, of course, I was then left alone.

"Well, I suppose we should...er...solve this problem..." I started, glancing wearily between Edward, who was on my right, to Mike, who sat glaring at our ceramic vase to my left. "I mean, it's not really a problem, it's just a...I guess there was a bit of a misunderstanding that led to, well, I guess you both thinking that I'm going out with you tonight...and-"

"Come _on_, Bella, this is a waste of time. Just cut to the chase and tell _Major Cullen,_" He sneered Edward's name as if it were a disease. "That you're going to be going with me to the fair." He rolled his eyes and once more sat back in his seat, as if signaling the end of the conversation. Though, for some reason, he didn't yet seem comfortable enough to look Edward in the eye.

Edward raise an eyebrow at his final comment. "Do you really believe that?"

Of course, Edward probably had a lot of experience in the glaring-into-the-eyes department, and his hard stare cause Mike to visibly break into a sweat. But, naturally, being the stubborn mule that Mike Newton is, he tried to stand his ground. "Er...y-yes. Yes, I do believe that."

"Then I suppose we should ask _Miss Swan_ what she thinks, since _apparently_ you don't care for any opinion but that of your own."

They looked at me expectantly, as if I had all the answers in the universe. I shifted nervously, biting my lip. "Listen, guys, I just think that this is just a big miscommunication, and we should just call it a-"

But, for the umpteenth time tonight, I was interrupted by the slamming of a door.

And there, sure enough, was Little Miss Queen of the Universe herself, Lauren Mallory, and her conniving group of evil-doers, Jessica and May, all in their pretty little carnival dresses (yes, they had specific dresses for going to carnivals) and makeup. "Come _on_, Mike, everyone's waiting. Can't you just get the little rat and let us get out of-" Her long, annoying string of complaints was interrupted when she noticed Edward. She stopped dead, making May and Jessica slam into her like dominoes.

"_Oh_, Major Cullen! What on _earth_ are you doing here, in a place like..." She looked around at my small, simple living room and grimaced. "Well, a place like _this_?" She batted her eyelashes at him, smiling like the cat that had swallowed the canary, as her best friends giggled behind her.

At first, I don't think Edward recognized Lauren as the annoying girl that had bombarded him at The Ballroom, and looked slightly confused. But as realization dawned on him slowly, he smiled forcefully, as if he was just as uncomfortable as I had been a moment before. "Well, Miss..." He paused expectantly, waiting for Lauren to tell him who in God's name she was.

"Mallory. Miss Mallory. But, _please_, call me Lauren." She smiled, sticking out her chest a little.

He paused, as if thinking this over. "..._Right_, Miss Mallory, I just came here in hopes of taking Bella out..." He chose to ignore the open-mouthed, gaping stares and continued, looking at Mike. "And I can plainly see that you're in a rush to get to your destination, so if you'll just let Bella and I depart, then-"

_Perfect, thinking, Edward!_ I smiled widely, seeing where this was going: I would _actually_do something as planned. I would go out with Edward to a fabulously perfect restaurant, have the time of my so-abnormally-unsocial life, and he would walk me back to my house, maybe even kissing me under my doorstep...

Okay, so maybe the last part wasn't so entirely likely, but a girl can dream, right?

But, of course, Lauren interjected quickly (thus abruptly killing my jovial mood), and came closer to him. "_Nonsense_!" She dragged out the word, probably intending to sound seductive and desirable. I, however, just thought it sounded like she had a toad shoved down her throat. "We were just going to the annual fair around here, _weren't we Mike_?" He gave a grumble in response, staring once again at his old friend, my vase. "And I'm _sure_ we would all love for you and..." She had to clear her throat a few times before being able to say my name. "..._Bella_ to come with us, wouldn't we, girls?"

Jessica and May gave another giggle.

Oh no...

"But, _Lauren_-" Mike whined.

_Yes! Yes Mike!_ I silently cheered him on, not dwelling on the irony; Mike could possibly be the person to save my night.

Not.

"Was I asking you, _Michael_?" Lauren snapped, and turned to me. "_Really,_ Bella, I think we should get over our past differences and learn to be friends. We'd be _great _together, you and I..." She smiled sweetly and I fought the urge to cry. I closed my eyes, though, in hopes of blocking out the urge to burst into hysterics like a lunatic.

And then I realized: Lauren had just invited me to go somewhere with her. Edward or no Edward, I never even dreamed that this day would come (well, that was a lie, actually, I had dreamt it; it was a nightmare). How many times had I seen other girls style themselves after the witches, in hopes of joining their own little clique? How many times had I seen the same wistful glances at the trio over and over again in the school hallways? And now I had the chance to join them. I had the chance to go out with them.

I had a chance to be one of them.

"So, you coming Bella?"

"Yeah, Bella, you coming?" I heard the sound of a slap, followed by Mike's sharp wince.

I hesitantly opened my eyes and looked over at Edward, hoping for a little backup. He, however, didn't even seem to notice me; he was, apparently, far too busy glaring daggers into the back of Mike's head.

Okay, so no help from Edward.

The barrage of questions swirled in my head like a tornado, wreaking havoc onto everything I had ever known. It was strange, that sensation of confusion; it was something I had never truly felt before in my life. It felt like nothing was certain, that there was always something hiding behind the surface of every different answer.

And it wasn't just about Lauren inviting me to come along with her and her friends. It was Mike being here, my father talking to me, Edward meeting me; it was even things about myself that had me questioning my life over the past few days. Strange new sensations were flowing freely through me, like a river's current. I had no idea what would happen next, and I was scared. What would my life turn into if things started changing? Would they even be changing? Or would the racing rivers just empty out into a large void of emptiness, as it had always seemed?

"Yes."

"What?" The chorus of seven shocked voices suddenly brought me back to reality, and I found myself staring at the surprised faces of Lauren and her friends, Edward, Mike, and my parents (who, apparently, hadn't been too occupied making tea in the kitchen to overhear the distressing situation).

"Yes," I repeated, speaking slowly as not to have to say it again. "Yes, we would love to come with you to the fair tonight."

"You _would_?" My father barked incredulously.

"You would!" Mike cheered.

"You would." Lauren didn't seem surprised.

"We would?" Edward was looking at me like I'd lost my mind.

"Yes," I said. "We would. You know, Lauren, I was really thinking about it, and I found that I agree with you. We need to learn to grow up and get over our previous...grudges and start new. You know, a clean slate?" I smiled at her.

Though a bit shocked, she replied, "Sure. A clean slate."

Of course, after a few moments she recomposed her facial expression into that of pure perfection. Her slight, knowing smirk was back and her pretty little eyebrow was arched, creating the effect of the beauty pageant winner that all the men wanted and all the girls hated. "You made a wise choice Bella. After all, having me on your opposing side is never a good thing." She paused, letting that sink in, and then continued. "Anyway, welcome to the group, and blah, blah, blah. Now, we need to get going. Can't keep the carnival waiting!" She turned away and snapped behind her, striding out the door with her best friends right behind her.

Yes, she snapped.

I looked towards Edward, who had the same look of disbelief on his face, and shook my head. Of course, I could see that some of that emotion was from the outcome of my decision, and that I sure had a lot of explaining to do to him. But I would say nothing now. I would save the talking for later, when we were alone and could talk privately.

If we ever got a chance to be alone.

I shook that though off immediately and followed the group out the door into the warm autumn night.

The car they brought didn't surprise me. It was new, ostentatious, and perfectly glossed; everything that described Lauren. I automatically assumed that the vehicle had been a gift from her father, Mr. Mallory, the town's attorney.

Of course, Mr. Mallory wasn't a horrible person. Some would even go as far as to say that he was a decent man, as decent as lawyers can possibly be. The only problem with him had always been his beautiful, arrogant, greedy daughter. He loved her as if the world revolved around her sole being, and would cater to her every wish. If she told him she wanted to see a film for her birthday, he'd rent out the entire theater on the opening night at the cinema. If she said she needed to borrow money, he asked how many hundreds. Yes, Princess Lauren had always had her father wrapped around her finger.

"We won't all fit, so the girls will have to sit on the boys' laps." Lauren pursed her lips for a moment, as if debating something in her head. "And, I suppose that we should even out the weight, so..." She looked over us, and then the boys. "May, you're in front with Tyler, who will drive. Jessica, you have pretty thick thighs, so you get Eric's bony bottom."

I looked at Jessica to see if she was in any way offended by this comment, but she just passed it off as if she got things like that all the time. I thought about saying something for her, but decided against it and went to climb onto Edward's lap, feeling a bit bolder than usual.

"Bella, where do you think you're going?"

I stopped dead in my tracks. "Um...didn't you say we have to sit on each others' laps?"

Her delicately arched eyebrow raised even further up her forehead. "Well, yes, but didn't I also say that we have to even out our weight?" She didn't wait for me to respond. "So, I was thinking that me, being the obviously lightest person here, would sit on Edward's lap, and that you would sit on Mike's. You _do_ have rather wide hips, you know."

I felt my mouth go into the shape of an "O", unbelievably offended. But of course, I, being scared out of my mind of what would happen to me if I were to object, said nothing and climbed remorsefully onto Mike's lap, my face as red as the lipstick on Lauren's mouth. I continued my silence as I watched her snuggle herself onto Edward's legs, not having the courage to look at his face.

........................................................................

"Okay, everyone! We're here!"

My mind snapped to attention as everyone began filing out of the car, and I quickly did the same; the sooner I could get out of Mike's lap, the better. The entire ride I had to slap away the wandering hands that would try to rest on my thighs or snake around my waist, hands that were always oblivious to the continuous gestures I made to inform them of their unwelcome state.

But every bitter thought deteriorated once I saw my surroundings.

The night was humming with live energy, the spirit of the carnival thriving off of the everything in it. Merry tunes floated through the air, continuously being sprinkled with the chiming laughs of children, the cheering of a game winner, the adrenaline-filled shrieking as bumper cars clashed against each other. Bright, multicolored lights glowed in the darkness of the sky while the Ferris Wheel full of lovers slowly rotated in the night.

I had been here before, a few times when I was small, right before my mother gave birth to Leo and Theo. It had been just me, Beth, and Larry, and my father would take us here without my mother; she never had been a fan of carnivals, especially not during her pregnancy. "Look around, my little Bella," my father would tell me. "See those glowing lights? Hear that joyous tune? It's magic, right before your eyes."

And it was. I was dumbfounded, unable to speak. Everywhere I would look, whether it be at the huge metal structures or the colorful candy vendors or the rotating carousel, my breath would catch in my throat and I would just be more convinced that it _was_ magic. That I was standing inside a world of fantasy, of surrealism and wonder, even if only for a little while.

Of course, I was older now. I now knew, unlike the days of my youth, that there was no such thing as magic, and that everything that lay before me was a form of man-made enjoyment used purely for a short burst of spontaneous entertainment. I had realized long ago that, after that one night of pure bliss, life would always go back to its monotonous cycle. The fact was inevitable.

And yet, even knowing this, the subconscious child in me still longed to believe the "magic" that this place once had been, long ago. That part of me _wanted_ to be ignorant and blissful, _wanted_ to think that there was no smoke and mirrors behind every trick. And so I would let myself go, if only for one night.

"So, what's first?"

The sudden comment made me instantly come out of my thoughts, and I grinned, forgetting about all of the little things that had gone on before._ I will _not_ let anything so trivial ruin my night_, I decided.

"Bumper cars." Tyler's statement was blunt, and thankfully everyone agreed.

Yes, even the she-demon agreed with someone elses' idea.

After we bought our tickets, we made our way over to the right side of the carnival, all of us knowing exactly where we were going from years before. We were joking and laughing with each other the entire way, but something was off. Every time Edward would try to say something to me or go to touch my arm, Lauren would quickly come between us, no matter how little space there was, and interject with a comment about how Edward would just _adore_ the cotton candy here, and did Edward ever visit a carnival before? And, oh Edward, wouldn't it be so nice to go through the Tunnel of Love, you know, try something new?

I wanted to gag.

Finally, we made it over to where "Super Bumpers" was set up. As we got in line, I looked upon the clashing of multi-colored mini automobiles with distaste. Truthfully, I had never been quite a fan of violence, and ramming each other with little cars never struck me as fun or exciting. But, hey, if that's what the group wanted to do, I sure wouldn't be the one stickler that wouldn't ride any of the rides.

"Next up." The man taking the tickets smiled at us, ushering us into the small area set up for the ride. "Please pick a partner and be seated in one of the cars; no threesomes, if you will. There are only three rules: be safe, be cautious, and be relentless. Have fun, kids!" I laughed and stepped inside, already enjoying myself more than I expected I would.

That is, until I realized that someone was right behind me.

"Hey, Bella!"

I spun around to see Mike standing (creepily and abruptly, I might add) close to me with a bright, eager smile on his face. I'll admit, I was a bit freaked out, but I didn't say anything like that to him. I just decided that it would be best to concentrate on not looking frightened, which was a lot more difficult than it should have been. "Oh...hello Mike...um, what do you want?"

"Oh, not much. Hey, do you want to be my partner?"

My eyes, involuntarily, went wide for a moment, and I had no idea what to say. "Oh! Well, I think that I'm going to..." I looked around to find Edward, knowing that he was the only one that I'd want to be paired up with. Somehow, I couldn't...

And then I saw him. Lauren was basically pushing herself onto his body, smiling like a cat ready to seduce its prey. I mean, I don't even know if cats _did_ seduce their prey, but it was the only thing that could pinpoint exactly what Lauren looked like at this moment.

She was batting her eyelashes, her leg almost hooked around his right hip (something that earned quite a few snickers from little children and gasps from the elderly women on the sides). Her lips were pursed in what I presume to be her attempt at a cute pout, but instead looking like she ate a whole lemon. Edward, the poor man, looked like he had no idea whatsoever how to get out of the situation, and just stayed there while Lauren rubbed her body against his.

I could feel my face getting hot with anger, and didn't even notice that Mike was still waiting for me to finish my sentence.

"Well, what were you thinking?"

I swiftly turned to glare at him, earning a wince and a shudder. Immediately I softened my expression-well, as much as I could in my present state-and calmly replied, "I was saying, Mike, that I was thinking that I would love to be your partner."

He smiled widely again. "Great!" And then, a little louder, "Bella and I call blue!"

I sighed and walked after him, already knowing that my perfect night was ruined.

...........................................................................

It pretty much went the same way for the rest of the time we were at the carnival: someone would choose a ride, we would all agree, and the Lauren would find a way into getting herself paired up with Edward. It seemed like she was going out of her way to make sure that we had no contact whatsoever, whether it be touching, talking, or communicating in any way. Everywhere I went, she went, as if she were keeping an eye on me to assure herself that I wasn't with him.

And it was driving me insane.

"So, what's next everyone?"

By this point, I was ready to go home. There was no question that I wasn't enjoying myself any longer, almost to the point where I was asking myself why I even bothered to get dressed and made up if I wasn't going to get a chance to be with the one person I wanted most to be with. I was moody and quiet, and therefore Lauren was absolutely glowing.

Everyone chattered and bickered over what ride we would visit next, as it would probably be our last. We only had a few tickets left, and everyone had suggestions as to how they should be spent. I, of course, couldn't care less; I was past the point of caring what we did or didn't choose to do-all I _did_ wonder about was when we were leaving.

And then the suggestion that immediately sparked debate: "I say we go on the Tunnel of Love."

It was-surprise, surprise-Lauren's suggestion, and her eyes immediately flickered to Edward's figure. By this point, Edward looked as tired and as given up as I probably was, and didn't even protest when Lauren would grab his arm or lean into him. Of course, most of the group agreed with Lauren's decision, mostly because it _was_ Lauren's decision. Majority rules.

The carnival was set up next to the small, winding river that looped around the area, much to the founders' pleasure. This river offered the perfect opportunity for the slow, romantic ride that was quickly becoming popular in grounded fairs everywhere: The Tunnel of Love, a short boat ride in the moonlight for lovers to celebrate their happiness on. It, of course became a hit, and was a sudden must-see for all the couples in Arlington.

I got on with Mike-another _huge _surprise. Not.

It was dark out, with thousands of stars visible on the black velvet sky. I could see Lauren and Edward in the boat in front of us, and immediately felt the same twang of jealously that had been haunting me all night. I watched bitterly as Lauren took Edward's arm and wrapped it around her shoulders, smiling as she looked up at him. I sighed, knowing exactly how this would turn out.

She would start to giggle and touch him playfully, teasing him about something so trivial that it wouldn't matter what they talked about. This would go on for a few minutes, and Edward's barrier that had been present the whole night would slowly break; after all, has any man ever resisted the charms of Lauren Mallory? Suddenly, she would smile, and all conversation would stop. She would tilt her head up, and he would tilt his down. Their lips would meet and...I couldn't bring myself to think any further, and shut my eyes to stop the stinging tears that were forming.

But then something unexpected happened.

I heard voices in front of me raising, as if two people were having an argument. One voice was cool and assertive, while the other was disbelieving and obnoxious. Opening my eyes in curiosity, I found Edward scooted as far as he possible could be away from Lauren, who had her hands on her hips and one eyebrow raised to the top of her forehead.

I only caught one sentence, shrieked in what I assumed to be agitation. "Why in the world don't you want to kiss me?"

I strained to hear the rest of their conversation, but couldn't. Lauren, realizing how high and loud her voice had gotten, calmed her tone and looked like she was hoping no one heard her. Edward, I was beyond hearing. His voice was too low, too calm, for me to even begin to pick up a fragment of a word.

"Huh. Looks like Cullen and Lauren Mallory are fighting."

Mike's voice brought me back to reality: I was still sitting in that small cramped boat with him on the shaky little river. "Oh, are they?" I pretended not to have been eavesdropping, and tried to focus my attention on him. "I didn't even notice."

He, of course, bought the whole innocent act and smiled, running a hand through his perfectly combed blond hair. "Yeah, looks like it. Huh. Never thought someone would be dumb enough to argue with Lauren, but I guess one person is." He paused to think about this and chuckled, not even noticing my offended face-how dare he insult someone that was so much...better than him? He shook his head once more before continuing. "Anyway, it doesn't matter. Right now, it's just you, me, and Cupid."

All time stopped.

"Wait. What?" I could not believe that I just heard what I thought I heard. Was he seriously suggesting...

"You heard me. Come on, Bella! I'm into you...You're into me...Don't deny the love we feel for each other." He scooted a little closer. I scooted a little farther. "You know it's true. I mean, if it wasn't, why would you be sending me all of those romantic vibes all night?" He shifted a little closer. I shifted a little farther. "Come on...let's just get to the chase. We both dig each other, so why not just...get together?" He started to lean into me, lips pursed, and I leaned as far as I could back.

Of course, little did I know how short and unstable the little safety bars were.

I shrieked as I was engulfed in the ice-cold water of the river, frantically splashing as I made my way back to the edge of the boat. Thankfully, the current was slow and the river shallow as it neared the end of the ride, so I was able to stand with the water up to my chest as I waded along. Mike sat there wide-eyed, still as a statue as I struggled to get back in.

"CAN YOU HELP ME, PLEASE?" I screamed frustratedly.

Finally Mike was able to snap out of his silent, stiff state and scrambled to help me back in. "Whoa, Bella! I had no idea that my charms would be so powerful that you would fall off the boat!"

"Sh-shut up, M-Mike..." I stuttered, shivering from the ice that was piercing my body.

Mike opened his mouth to speak, but was suddenly interrupted by the sound of Edward's frantic velvet voice, calling over from the boat in front of us. I grinned, never havig been happier to see an enraged face in all my life. "Bella! Are you alright? NEWTON, WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO HER?" He looked like he was seething, and I'll admit that I was shocked. In the time that I'd known him, Edward had never been the type that I'd pin as the angry kind. He was always calm and collected, and rage was never an emotion that I had believed would ever cross his beautiful face.

But, seeing this, Mike looked scared out of his wits. His eyes were wide as they darting around, as if he would find the answer hidden behind a tree or under the river. "Well...I...uh..."

"I'm fine, thank you, Edward." I tried my best to give him a smile.

I was surprised to find that it wasn't that hard.

When we finally got off, the entire group was around me, wondering what on earth had happened. Mike told a complete cock-and-bull story about how we'd been enjoying ourselves so much that I lost track of where I was and just "slipped" into the river. At the words "enjoying ourselves" Edward raised an eyebrow, looking at me with a questioning look in his eyes, but I just rolled my own in return, not even bothering to tell what really happened.

"Well, now that _that_ whole fiasco is over with, let's get some food!" Tyler shouted, and ran off excitedly to the other end of the carnival without another word. Soon enough, the rest of them followed, leaving me finally alone with Edward. Well, with the exception of Lauren.

"Hey, Edward, aren't you going to come?" She smiled sickly sweet at him.

Edward paused for a moment. "Of course, Lauren. I just need to do something briefly. I might have left a possession of mine in the boat...will you save me a seat?"

She grinned; this was all she needed to hear. "Of course, sugar! See you..." And she giddily ran off.

I looked at Edward. A mix of emotions seemed to be crossing his face: anger, amusement, fascination...but mostly, relief. He looked lest tense than he had the entire night, almost as if he had been waiting for this exact moment. I probably looked exactly the same. Well, except in a less beautiful, dripping-wet-cat kind of way. A long silence passed between the two of us before I finally asked, "Sugar?"

We exploded into laughter.

"Ugh. Long story." He said, grinning.

"I have time."

He smiled crookedly-bless his soul-and shook his head. "That may be so, Miss Swan, but this is not the time nor place to discuss such matters." He paused. "However, I think there might be a place that we can talk in private, if you'd like." He gave a swift, short motion behind him, and I was about to ask what he meant before I suddenly realized what he was talking about.

There stood the large Ferris Wheel in all its glory. Beautiful small lights twinkled around its circumference, beckoning me like a snake charmer to the serpent. I looked at Edward and smiled. "Race you there," I whispered, and took off.

About twenty minutes later, we sat at the top of the gigantic wheel, laughing and talking together. There was rarely a silence between us, but when there was it was always comfortable. When I questioned the length of the ride, secretly hoping it wouldn't be too short, Edward told me he had paid the man taking tickets to just let us stay on for however long we wanted (although how _much_ money he had to give was a mystery).

"So you're saying that you've _never_ had a girl before? Please. I don't believe that for a moment. Women everywhere must have been throwing themselves at you." My eyes bulged in disbelief.

Edward smiled. "No ma'am. I'd always been the boy too focused to bother with girls. My plan had just been Go to School, Turn Sixteen, and Go to War. My mother probably would have chosen the alternate path for me, but I knew what I wanted. And besides, what makes you so disbelieving that I've _never,_" He exaggerated the word as I had, mocking me. "Had a girl, and yet here you sit expecting me to just take in the completely absurd fact that you've _never_ had a beau?"

I pouted. "That's different. You're dazzlingly gorgeous."

I immediately blushed-had that truly just come out of my mouth. I mean, I knew I had been thinking it; Hell, it was a known fact. But to hear myself say it out loud to him made my cheeks alight with flames.

Edward just smirked. "Really? Thank you, I'm quite flattered." He stopped, thinking something over. "Dazzling? Do I dazzle you?"

I looked into his piercing green eyes and found that I had nothing to say. The depths of those irises...how was that even possible?...Right, Bella, snap out of it. "Please. As if you don't know it. Anyway, look at you, and look at...me."

"Right. Look at you-you're undeniably beautiful, Bella, inside and out. You radiate light wherever you go, not to mention that you are breathtaking. Any man in their right mind would take you as his girl." His gaze was intense, and I found it too powerful to hold. I looked down, blushing furiously, but soon felt a hand delicately lift my chin up.

"And, by the way, I think your hips are absolutely perfect."


	8. Goldy

**Guys. Seriously. I just cannot thank you enough for all the amazing reviews I've been getting. They make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside, just like chocolate...or champagne...or a kiss from Edward Cullen! Gee, isn't life beautiful? Anyway, to be back on track, I know that some of you are like, "Okay. Seriously. Where in the hell is the plot line to this story?" ****And I promise it's coming. _Really_. I just feel that in _By Moonlight_ I got to the punchline _way_ too quickly for my (and for that matter, _anyone's)_ liking, and I kind of want to get all my fluff and giddiness out in this first part, because I can just promise you this: there won't be much room for that in the second part! ****That's all I'm saying. But, then again, I guess I can give you the title of the second part, because I know it won't give anything away-I hope:**

**"Home"**

**If you think you know how the second part of the story will go, then visit my profile page and send me a PM, and I will, _undoubtedly,_ reply to you! I love getting notes from my readers, and I will be more than ecstatic to send you something back. I don't know...maybe a sneak peak of the next chapter...(grins evilly). So I'll leave you with that, and then you can get into the next chapter, where I PROMISE the actual stuff will be starting!**

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It had been about a two and a half months since the Carnival Incident, which I had mentally been calling it ever since. My ruined, absolutely horrid night had ended up turning into something blissful: an event I had not allowed myself to count on the moment we stepped into Lauren's car. Of course, that's why Edward was so peculiarly special. He was able to turn my most miserable moment into one I would remember for the rest of my life.

In a _good_ way.

Even though we weren't going steady-_yet_, I barely allowed myself to think the hope-filled word-I truly _do_ like Edward. He makes me happy when I'm around him, and I'm pretty certain that he enjoys my company as well. We're not too deep or serious with each other, and neither of us feel the need to criticize the other every waking moment. And, aside from the exterior perfection, he's a real person. An exceptional person, actually. He's clever, witty, and intelligent, and actually puts some thought into his words before they leave his mouth. It's good, I think, for me to have someone I can actually talk to without having to explain myself or dumb my words down so they can understand.

But, of course, there _is_that feeling of inferiority whenever I'm around him. But then again, who wouldn't feel excruciatingly plain next to a Greek god such as himself? His rock-hard, unbelievably nice body, his unruly, autumn-like hair...not to mention his mesmerizing green eyes. It's become increasingly difficult, I've found, to restrain myself from wanting more than I can have.

Even as I feel whatever it is between us constantly building, I find myself questioning our actual relationship. What exactly _are_ we? We're more than friends, certainly, but would I go as far as to say that we're _together_? I don't believe I would.

And, after all, I was _far_ from being certain about anything. How did I even know he _wanted_ something like that between us? How could I assume that he even did had those sorts of feelings for me? Of course, I knew that he liked me. The cute, small gestures or compliments would surely justify that. But did he want something more than that?

Did_ I_ want something more than that?

Never in my life before had I felt this way about _anyone_. After all, it had been difficult when all you had to choose from is the group of twenty-odd males your age from a population of about a hundred and twenty that you had spent your _life_ growing up with. The emotion that surged through me every time I was around Edward was electrifying, yet foreign. I couldn't quite put a name to the strange sort of current, and I was scared.

Did I even _have_ something to be afraid of?

And, even so, was this normal? Did everyone, at one point in their life, go through a confusing stage such as this? I mean, I doubt the majority of them had a chance to meet and develop a relationship with a drop-dead gorgeous man that should be living in some sort of heaven. But, even, so, was this all part of the plan? Was it some kind of rite of passage that I had to go through, where I was faced with some sort of difficult romance problem that I had to solve?

If so, life was_ so_ extremely unfair. I mean, why can't everything be absolutely perfect? Like in a fairytale, or a romance novel. After everything in the entire book happens, the beautiful woman (I snorted, not even trying to put myself into that category) always ended up with the handsome knight in shining armor. So, why couldn't all lives be like that? But, then again, that led me back to my previous question:

What king of relationship, exactly, did Edward and I share?

I growled, beyond frustrated at this complex state of confusion.

I decided that this new loss of my sanity was _probably _based on the fact that I hadn't really stepped out of the confines of my home in the last week or so, and I concluded that I _absolutely_ had to get out. The same old walls and rooms were driving me crazy.

I didn't even pause to think of where I would go, or where I even _could_ go. I just needed to be anywhere but here. Anywhere where I wouldn't be surrounded by annoying little brothers, or embarrassing fathers, or anxious mothers waiting for me to just get married and have some friends that didn't have four legs and lived outside in our barn.

No. I needed to get away from that.

"Mother! I'm going out!" I called quickly in the general direction of upstairs, sliding my coat on. The fall-almost-winter weather was getting to be especially biting nowadays, and everyone in town had been preparing like it a blizzard would arrive in a matter of days.

"Oh. Sure, dear. Enjoy yourself."

The surprised, yet unmoved voice of my mother was all it took for me to sprint out the door, into the chilly air.

I jogged quickly down the street, although there was no rush and nowhere special I was heading to. My hot breath was coming out in billowy clouds, and I could feel my cheeks and nose starting to turn red from the cold air. It was a surprisingly nice sensation; a change from the unchanging, uneventful past few days.

It was good, I think, for me to get some shocking cold into my body. I had felt numb, as if my thoughts were slowly making my entire being senseless. This icy feeling was like being woken from a dream by a pail of freezing water. It was definitely something I needed, and it almost caused me to smile as I walked on through the chilly air.

I walked on down the street, not pausing for anything whatsoever, my previous thoughts still buzzing around in my head like a confusing whirlwind. And, before I knew it, I found that my subconscious had been leading me towards the one place I had never gone in years:

Marty's Malt Shop.

Marty McLinton was a childhood best friend of my father's, as they had spent their first eighteen years growing up next to each other. I'd heard the story about a million times, of how Charlie and Marty were absolutely inseparable and were, undoubtedly, the troublemakers of 1922 Arlington.

It was inevitable, however, that the two best friends would have to grow up sometime, and so they did. While my father decided to lay low with his love, the wild girl of the town, Renee, and marry her into the simple farm life (which eventually led to the making of Larry, me, and etcetera), Marty decided that, if he couldn't be a kid, surround himself with them.

And surround himself he did.

Marty's Malt Shop was an instant success in this small town, and eventually was designated as "The Couples' Hangout". Even so, I'd spent a good part of my early life here with my silly, hair-brained Uncle Marty, drinking an endless supply of chocolate malts, in which I'd _always_ find an extra cherry or two, courtesy of said uncle.

But I hadn't been here in years. After all, life got busy and I grew up. There were baby sisters to attend to, cows to milk, books to be learned. There was no way I could keep living in that chocolate-cherry-malt dream world, no matter how much I longed for a way I could.

The sweet, reminiscent tinkle of the bells that hung on the entrance door sent a tingly current through me. Looking around, I could see that the place hadn't changed a bit since I'd last been here. Old, red leather bar stools, a beat-up jukebox, chipping blue paint: it was all exactly how I left it so many years ago. And, in a way, that made me happy. As if there was something I could count on, even when so many changes, it seemed, were taking place.

I walked up hesitantly to the age-old bar, sitting quietly on one of the red stools. No one was behind the bar, so I just waited silently.

Looking around the room, I saw that the majority of the people here were my age, and (obviously, living in such a small town as this) most were people I knew: Lauretta Haywood, a quiet but quirky girl a year younger than me, with Woody Lamont, a skinny red-haired boy who'd won a special science award a few towns over. And then there was Ava Vernell and Robbie Rolando, a couple that had been going steady since practically grade school, and were said to have already made marriage arrangements.

Looking at all these happy couples reminded me of my frustrating predicament with Edward. I sighed, burying my head in my arms. I was ready to just go back to my deep thinking when I heard it.

"Hey, lady, you okay?"

My head shot up when I heard the high soprano voice so startlingly close to me. Rubbing my eyes, I found that the voice belonged to a small, auburn-haired girl in pigtails with a huge lollipop in hand. She was in a pink frilly party dress, and was staring with a look of concern on her tiny freckled face. She looked to be about nine years old.

"Um...excuse me?" I blinked a few times, looking over my shoulder to see if she was actually talking to me.

She rolled her eyes and sat down in the stool across from me. "Oh, please. I could _so_ tell that there was something up with you the moment I looked over and saw a girl burying her head in her arms. With no beau, I might add." She looked smugly at me, as if she already knew the answer of what I would say.

Who _was_ this girl? And who was she to just waltz up to me and demand to know about my personal life? I looked incredulously at this four-foot-five sprig of sarcasm, who was apparently getting frustrated with my lack of response.

"Well, what's wrong then?"

Her hands were folded expertly, like a doctor waiting for someone to tell them their symptoms.

I cocked an eyebrow, still stunned that this was even _happening_. "Well, I don't even really know you." There, I thought happily. _This_, most definitely, would get her. Hopefully she would just leave now and leave me to my own mind, which had much business to attend to. I started to turn back to the bar before I heard her speak again.

"Goldy Harrods, at your service." She grinned widely and stuck her tiny hand out expectantly.

Bemused, I met her hand with my own. "Er...Bella."

"Great!" She exclaimed, flipping one of her bouncy auburn pigtails out of her eyes. "Now we know each other. So will you _please_ just tell me what's bothering you? I promise I won't tell anyone, not even my cat, Howard, if that makes you feel better." Big, green eyes stared at me innocently, waiting patiently.

I sighed. What have I got to lose? It was only some little girl-how could telling her this one problem of mine possibly do anything against me? Besides, it might be good for me to get everything off my chest. "Well...okay." I swiveled my chair around so I was facing her completely. "So, there's this boy..."

"A boy?" She grinned.

I smiled wider, her enthusiasm rubbing off on me. "Okay, so_ boy_ isn't even close to what he is. More like, a _god_ of a man." I paused, and she giggled. "He is _so_handsome. He's tall, and has strong arms, and has these beautiful green eyes that make you want to faint from ecstasy every time you look at them. And, not to mention, he's a soldier."

Goldy raised her eyebrows. "A soldier?"

I nodded. "Yes. And not only a soldier, he's the soldier. One of the Lieutenant Generals of the entire _army_." I sighed, knowing that this was just another item to add to my exponentially growing list of "Reasons Why Bella Swan Does Not Belong With Edward Cullen In _That_ Way". I mean, this was just getting _too _unfair.

Realization had dawned on her face. "You mean Edward Cullen?"

I frowned, nodding. How did Goldy know his name? "Exactly. Do you know him?"

She shook her head. "No, I don't. But I always hear my older sister talking about him. She says he's absolutely dreamy." She giggled, these cute little dimples appearing on her freckled face as her grin stretched even wider.

My smile returned. "And your sister is right. He _is_ dreamy. And I think he likes me, too."

"Then what's the problem?"

I sighed. This was the hard part. I considered saying to her, 'Oh, never mind. It's just some dumb stuff. I'm probably just being too over-sensitive', but I stopped myself. After all, had I not already agreed to tell her what my real problem was? "Well, I think he likes me, but I don't know if he likes me like that. I mean, how can I know if he even wants to be in a romantic relationship with me? He can have any girl he wants. Why would he choose me?"

She frowned. "Why _wouldn't_ he choose you?"

My eyebrows furrowed. "Well, I mean, look at me. I'm beyond plain." I held up one of my long, brown curls. "I'm not rich. And, I'm practically a social outcast." I paused, and when I saw she was about to intercede, I held up a finger. "Wait. I'm not done. I live on a farm, I have nine people in my family, I have to argue to the world's end with Mr. Sentry just to get some lousy oil, and I'm probably the clumsiest person on the _planet_." I sighed. "Why would he choose _me_ over someone like _Lauren Mallory_?" The name came out of my mouth like venom, and I slumped my shoulders in defeat.

"Wait up. Who's this Lauren Mallory? And how did this all start? Come on, if you want me to help you, you _have_ to start from the beginning." She pursed her lips, one small eyebrow arched knowingly.

And so I told her. I explained everything, right from the moment when I saw the soldiers and thought of my brother, Larry, to when I first saw Edward's piercing green eyes, to when I saw him at dinner that night in Benetti's Ballroom. Goldy listened carefully, laughing at the part where I chucked a wine glass at Lauren's brand new white dress, and "aw"ed at the part where Edward asked me to dinner. I had to spit the details through my teeth about the Carnival Incident, and sighed when I finally told her about my happy ending with Edward on the ferris wheel.

"And so, that's pretty much it for the last few months. I mean, it's all basically the same. I've spent a lot of my time with Edward, but even so I can't figure out his feelings for me." I paused, thinking for a moment. "Actually, I don't even think I can figure out my feelings for _him_."

For a few moments, we were both quiet. Goldy had a contemplative expression on her face that almost made me laugh. Here I was, explaining my innermost feelings to a girl who couldn't be more than ten years old.

When she finally spoke, she stunned me. "Do you love him?"

"What?" My voice came out half-strangled.

"I said, do you love him? I mean, this guy obviously has feelings for you. And don't even try to convince me otherwise. I doubt you're more than half of those things you said about yourself. So who cares if you live on a farm, or you have a big family, or you're not rolling in money? You're drop-dead beautiful, Bella, on the inside and out, and I can tell that you really have a heart. Which is more, obviously, than I can say for this Lauren girl. So my only question is: Do you love him?"

Love.

It was a strange word, beyond something I ever could even dream to achieve in my life. After all, I had always expected to be alone, in one way or another. Of course, I would marry: there was no doubt about that. I needed to support my family, and by staying by myself for my own purely selfish reasons would cause an eternity of guilt within me. And so I had always planned to marry, to be what my family needed me to be, but I never expected to find love.

Even so, I suppose I had always subconsciously been searching for the foreign word. I knew, obviously, that there was a slim chance that I would ever find it somewhere in this small, provincial town, but part of me had always been in a dreamland. I guess my absurd amount of reading lent itself to that idea, and so I had always been waiting for love to find me; whether I knew it or not.

But the question was: Had I already found it?

When I thought of Edward, my blood boiled and my heart beat increased dramatically, as if some kind of strange electricity was running through my entire being. My skin tingled even with the slightest of his touches, and the mere sight of him sent my insides into a frenzy. But love?

"I...I don't know." I whispered. "I'm not even sure what love _is_..."

Goldy sighed. "Love is like..." She looked down at her lollipop, which was now almost fully consumed. "Eating candy. Except, a jillion times better. Your insides get all squishy with happiness, and you think that nothing in the world could ever make you feel happier than you are at that moment. You can't stop smiling, and if you were to eliminate it from the world, life would mean close to nothing." She thought for a moment, and then nodded, as if content with her analysis.

And, the more I thought about it, the more clearer it became.

I was insanely happy whenever I was around him, so much that I don't think anything in my life could ever compare. Nothing, not the worst mood ever in the history of the universe or even_ Lauren Mallory_, can keep me from grinning in his presence. And, of course, a world without Edward would mean nothing at all (I shuddered to even consider the fact). And then I realized:

I was, undeniably, unconditionally, irreversibly, in _love_ with Edward Cullen.

A grin spread across my face. "I really am," I marveled, my voice barely above a soft whisper. "I truly _am_ in love." And then, louder. "Me. In love!" Until, finally, I was practically shouting. "BELLA SWAN IS IN LOVE!"

Someone, Lauretta Haywood, was clapping enthusiastically, while Ava Vernell giggled into Robbie's arm.

I realized, with a tremendous blush, that the entire place was dead quiet as they watched me standing on the small red stool, arms stretched out victoriously. "Oh." I muttered, getting down as unnoticeably as I could (which was to no avail; everyone was already staring anyway). "Sorry, guys. Please get back to your meal."

Goldy was grinning at me, as if nothing too peculiar had happened. "See? I _told _you! Now, what are you going to do?" she looked at me expectantly, still smiling.

Suddenly, I was confused. "Um...do?"

"Yes, _do_! Come on."

I pursed my lips, thinking frantically. What the hell was I _supposed_ to do? "Um...actually, Goldy, I wasn't really planning on doing anything. Should I be?" I frowned, looking down in my lap.

I heard her scoff, and I looked up to see her rolling her eyes at me. "Obviously Bella! You can't just think that you're going to do nothing after you just realized that you love the man of your dreams! Now, come on, what are you going to do?" She was now standing, her hands perched stubbornly on her hips as she awaited my answer.

"Well...I guess I'll go home and tell my mother..."

"You're mother? Bella, you are a magnificent grown woman who has just had a brilliant epiphany, and the first thing you think about is the fact that you're going to go home and tell your mother? Try again."

I bit my lip. "Um...my best friend?"

She shook her head.

"Okay. I don't know. What am I supposed to do?"

Goldy through her hands up in the air dramatically, muttering to herself something about teenage romance nowadays. "Argh!" she paused, dropping her arms to look at me. She took a deep breath before finally responding. "Okay, Bella. Here's what you're going to do. You are going to march out of here like you won a thousand dollars, and go right to Edward Cullen. You are going to profess your undying love to him, and he is going to sweep you off your feet and you will be married and I won't have to come to you ever again to fix a romance problem, because you two will be living happily ever after."

"Right." I said, not really understanding, but deciding that 'right' would be my best answer choice.

She grinned. "So what are you still here for? Go find your lover boy!"

I laughed, overcome with so much joy I couldn't hold it in. I stood up and grabbed Goldy into a huge hug, lifting her off the floor. She squealed, bursting into a fit of giggles as I twirled her around, and finally I put her down. "Thank you so much, Goldy Harrods! You will never know how much you've helped me! I will forever be in debt to you."

She shook her head, smiling at me, and said softly, "Oh no. You, Isabella Marie Swan, are truly one of a kind."

I smiled once more at her and twirled around, running towards the door. My mind and heart were in a frenzied state of ecstasy, like I'd just drunken a whole barrel of warm wine. Though I was unbelievably excited to go and tell Edward, something stopped me. How did Goldy know my full name? I definitely didn't tell her...I turned around. "Hey, how did you know-"

But Goldy Harrods was no where in sight.

..........................................................

I ran, once more, down the street in the biting, sub-zero November air, though this time I wasn't uncertain or hesitant about anything. My face was plastered in a huge grin as I struggled to sprint in my long, heavy winter skirts. I was even colder this time around, however, as it was nearing evening and I had, in my haste, forgotten my coat in Marty's Shop (this wasn't a big deal; I could always go back later to get it).

And it suddenly occurred to me that I had absolutely no idea where Edward was.

I stopped dead in my tracks, pursing my lips thoughtfully. Where to find him...I sighed, realizing that my mind was beyond imagining or thinking anything past the point of "I love Edward". My luck, thank goodness, was with me though today and I was able to spot a man in a brown soldier's uniform.

I quickly ran up to him. "Excuse me, sir, but would you be able to tell me where Edward Cullen is?"

The man was tall and intimidating with dark skin, but that initial first impression wore off once his face broke out into a huge, toothy grin. "Why, hello little missus. What'd you say you was lookin' for?" He shook his head. "I'm sorry. I have a hearin' problem...Yep. Ever since them nasty Germans took my right ear off...I'm sorry. What was you say'n?"

I smiled. "I was looking for Edward Cullen." I said it louder, so as to ensure that there would be no problem hearing it.

Comprehension dawned on his face. "Ah! You is lookin' for the General! I dunno, but I thinks he'd be at the office, seein' as he told me he had some _busy-ness _to attend to." I grinned as he gave me the address, and was about to go off when he frowned. "But I'd be careful if I was you, missus. Nothing gets between the General and his busy-ness."

I quickly thanked him, rushing off towards where I was directed to go.

Something about the man's dark tone alarmed me, something about the way he said that nothing could get between Edward and his "business" freaked me out. But I shook it off. After all, I was just about the happiest girl in all of Illinois right now, and nothing, absolutely _nothing_, could dampen my mood.

When I finally arrived at the small, old building about ten minutes later, I was out of breath and positively jumping with apprehension. What would Edward do? Would he laugh? Cry? Would he take me into his arms and spin me around, "sweeping me off my feet" as Goldy predicted? I had absolutely no idea what would happen, and I felt like I would burst if I didn't get to talk to him anytime soon.

I tried to compose myself the best that I could, smoothing my surely wild hair down and straightening my rustled skirts. Even if it didn't matter to me now, I'm sure I would look back at this moment with dread if I let myself just burst through the door a crazed mess. And when I finally felt that I was as decent as I could possibly get, I reached for the door handle.

But, to my surprise, the door opened before I could even touch it.

There stood Edward, looking as breathtakingly beautiful as ever. He green eyes bore into mine, smoldering with intensity, as was also the same as always.

But there was something wrong. Odd. In place of the wonderful, gloriously angelic smile I had hoped to see, was a deep frown. His jaw was visibly clenched, and his brows were furrowed as if in deep concentration. His hair was especially distraught today, as if he had spent hours running his hands through it. The overall dark expression on his face scared me. And, when he finally spoke, all traces of my previous joviality were gone.

"Bella, we need to talk."

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**Sorry guys. Cliff hangers are never fun, sometimes not even for the author. Okay, so maybe they're ALWAYS fun for the author, but whatever. And, I actually am dreading writing the next chapter of this! *tear tear***

**Goldy Harrods is mine and you cannot have her!**

**So, remember, just hit that gorgeous little periwinkle button over there *eyes review button* because both you and I know that it loves to be touched. So, make it's wishes come true, because it REALLY wants to hit the 300 mark.**


	9. Reality

**Guys, I know I say this just about every chapter, but it really does encourage me to _no end_ when I see how many people stopped to review. Finally we reached 300! I am SO glad that you guys like the story, and I was thoroughly surprised when I saw how many of you had something to say after the last chapter!**

**You know, when I read all those reviews about making this another New Moon, I almost cried. And then I kinda laughed. Because many of you may seriously hate me after this chapter! That's all I'm gonna say...**

**OH! And, before I forget, the rating for this story has officially been changed! IT IS NOW RATED M. I did this for many reasons, one of which being the pretty graphic scenes and language later on in the story. This is _war,_ after all people.**

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_"Everything is a dangerous drug, except reality, which is unendurable."  
__-Cyril Connolly-_

A lump formed in my throat. "Talk?"

Edward nodded, that same dark expression on his face. "Yes."

I looked at him, my heartbeat accelerating to ten thousand times faster than normal. Of course, I should have been used to this by now. I knew I could always count on the rapid thrumming that my heart would race into every time he touched me, every time he even _spoke_ to me. I knew it was a given, but now, at this moment...it felt...different. As if there was much more fear in the frantic drumming rather than excitement.

Talk? What could he possibly need to talk about? If anything, I was the one who had something to tell. For heaven's sake, I just realized I was desperately in love with the man! Couldn't it wait?

Unless...this was bad. Could my feelings of fear be possibly correct? Could the reason for his horribly serious expression be something equally nightmarish? If he were to leave me now...that would just kill me. For once in my life, I had felt, even if only for a few moments, the unbelievable joy that came out of me loving someone. To have it all taken away from me...

I bit my lip, trying at once to force these absurd thoughts from my mind. "Oh. Okay. Well, do you want to go somewhere? Or is here fine? I mean, if it's really important we can go somewhere private, but only if you want, of course. I mean, is it important? Of course it is. I mean, why would you be so serious if it weren't..." I trailed off, realizing that I was babbling in my state of anxiety.

_Oh well_, I thought, _maybe he'll get some sort of humor-instigated pleasure out of the fact that I'm an absolute nervous wreck_. I briefly thought back to the number of times—countless, probably—I had babbled and blushed when I was near him. His reaction on all of the above mentioned occasions had always been a musical chuckle followed with a delightfully phrased questioning of my sanity.

But, oddly, this time he did neither. In fact, his face hardly changed at all as he led me around to the back of the old building.

I had never been to this place before. Well, to be truthful, I had actually only visited this particular section of town a few times, as it _kind of_ freaked out most of the kids—both my age and younger.

The entire area was said to be haunted, infested with ghoulish spirits that held grudges from their former life. Rumors told that they wandered the streets every night, starting with the moment the sun starts to go down to the time it starts to rise again. If you weren't careful, they'd possess your body and turn you into one of their kind, and no one would ever hear of you again.

I had never really been the superstitious type. Actually, I had always been the sarcastic, unbelieving kid in the corner who had watched on as the other girls gossiped and giggled about "That Hinky Joint" near the end of town. I'd roll my eyes as I sat alone with a book and try to convince myself, _"It's for the better that I'm not their friend..."_

But now...everything seemed a bit different. Maybe it was the weird mood that was emanating from the entire place, the strange feeling that was in the air for the present moment. I felt creeped out and jittery, like I was afraid that something would pop out any second and scare me to death.

One time, when I was really little—around five or six, probably—and it was only me, Larry, and Bethany, who was just a baby, my mother would take us to the old town playground that sat on the edge of the woods. On one trip to the park, I had strayed away from where my siblings were playing on the swings, desperate for a different adventure. I wandered so far that I was, technically, inside of the woods, shaded by the multiple trees and bushes from view of the other families and people.

I remembered getting more scared by the minute, wondering where my mother and sister and brother had gone, and soon I had tears running down my face. I was lost and confused and absolutely terrified, and, overcome with an overwhelming sense of fright, plumped down on the ground and started wailing.

Larry, who was around eight years old, heard my horrifying cries and rushed into the area, of course finding me sitting in the dirt, tear-stained cheeks puffy and red from bawling. "Larry," I said, hiccuping, "You came to get me! I was lost, and you found me!"

"Well, of course," Larry replied, helping me up off the ground. As he brushed the dirt and moss off of my backside, he said, "What are big brothers for? 'The only thing we have to fear is fear itself'," he said proudly. "Do you know who said that, Bellsy? Frankling Deleanor Roosevelt, our greatest president ever. One day, I'm gonna fight for him, you know."

At the time, I thought nothing of it. After all, Larry was practically obsessed with President Roosevelt. It was all he talked about, morning and night, twenty four hours a day. But, now, as I look back on it, I realize that he had known he would join the army ever since he was young, as if he knew what his future could only be.

It was as if he relied on nothing but fate.

..................................................

The back of the building was exactly like the front: old and freaky. Over-grown grass that must have been about thirty years old, rusty old pipes sticking out at random places. The cool November air twirled around me eerily, making loose wisps of my hair float around my face. Edward still had that same terrifying, cold expression on his face, and I was getting more creeped out by the minute.

Edward led us around to the very far side of the wall, so as to get away from the biting wind. Even so, I shivered.

He frowned, and for a moment I saw his old self—that warm, kind demeanor that always used to be present in the beautiful green orbs just underneath long black lashes—show through in his cold eyes. "Are you cold?"

Was I _cold_? I was worried to _death_ about what he was going to say to me and he was asking if I was cold? For a moment I got angry, lashing out in my agonizing confusion and frustration. "No. I'm not," I replied sarcastically, but immediately regretting snapping at him when the only one I was angry with was myself. "Oh...sorry," I said meekly. "Don't mind me. I'm a little...jumpy." Remembering what he asked, I added, "Oh, and yes. Just a bit cold. No big deal."

Again, a strange flash of warmth shone through the stony façade. He reached up to hesitantly touch his jacket, as if he were to take it off, but looked like he had decided against it. The whole ordeal looked like he was on some sort of auto-pilot, like it was just instinct that he was going against, or a habit he was trying to break.

We walked for a few more feet until we were out of the wind's way, for the most part. Edward turned to face me, his body extremely stiff and military-like. His face was blank and without expression, and I briefly wondered if this was what he looked like when he was working.

During the time we had spent together, I had heard a handful of stories from him about his time in the army. Most were mainly about his men and the good times they had spent together. Some were funny and wittily told; others were about how much he learned from watching the best men he had ever met fight their way for their country, and about how he realized that the truly greatest heroes are the ones that are rarely seen in public. All of the tales were all fairly lighthearted and proud, but I had a feeling that he was withholding from me the darker aspect of the great war.

And now, as I looked upon his expressionless manifestation, I got a glimpse of those hidden chronicles, the ones he had, perhaps, thought me too fragile to hear.

And perhaps I was.

I was brought out of my thought when Edward cleared his throat. He opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it quickly again, as if editing his words inside his head. He did so a few more times, his brow becoming increasingly deeper, until he finally said, "Bella, I like you."

I nodded, taking caution not to let those words imprint in my mind just yet.

He sighed heavily. "Bella, I like you very much." At this he frowned. "I like you so much, in fact, that I have found myself becoming thrilled at the mere thought of you. And, believe me: I think of you very, very much." He almost growled then, finally showing one emotion: frustration. "And how could I not? Even I, who had never even considered the idea that I would ever enjoy someone's presence such as yours is overwhelmed by your constant occurrence in my mind. Do you realize the effect you have on me?"

I stood there, shaking, as he asked again. "Do you?"

They were the words I had, even if subconsciously, been hoping he'd say to me for months. After all, how often do you get recognized and even flattered by the man of your dreams? But somehow, as I looked upon Edward's cold stare now, there was no feeling of relief in my heart, no weight off my shoulders. If anything, I was even more frightened.

And he was scrutinizing me, too. He looked me up and down, as if waiting for some kind of reaction, some kind of sign that I had taken his question to heart. And, when he realized I would not be answering him, he sighed again. "I suppose you don't. You are so unobservant when it comes to self image. I'll admit, I'd always thought you were odd."

He suddenly looked up at me, alarmed that he had said that. "I mean, of course not odd. I meant odd in different way. Isabella, you are undoubtedly the most beautiful woman in this town. In this state, even. And yet, you refuse to acknowledge your own beauty and, instead, shrink inside of yourself in the mere presence of false attractiveness." He shook his head.

Recognizing that he had gone off the original topic he had begun with, he started again, his voice harder. "But that is besides the point. Listen, Miss Swan, I felt that you must know my feelings for you before I tell you my point in bringing you here."

His point in bringing me here? I realized with a sudden dread that he had, indeed, not lead me here to tell me how much he loved me, as I apparently had about to have told him.

"As I said, I like you very much Bella. But..."

And there it was. The universally acknowledged "but". Of course, thanks to both myself and the ones closest to me, I had been acquainted with it my entire life, starting even from the beginning. I suppose it had always been a way to keep me on the ground, to make me recognize that everything would not go the way I would have liked it to go, that there was always a possibility that the small word would show up at any given time.

And now, as Edward's perfect lips uttered it, I felt my heart instinctively going on Caution Mode. It was almost as if it were preparing for the end, getting ready to shatter into millions of pieces. Following my heart, I could feel my limbs tensing and my stomach starting to churn, as if my entire body was a factory preparing for bankruptcy. But I wasn't ready. Not yet, not ever.

I shivered, and this time not from the cold.

I watched carefully as Edward continued to speak. "But I have a feeling you are forgetting my profession. As I have said, I...enjoy your presence, but what I do is nothing for you to get into, Bella. It is not in your best interest..." He paused, closing his eyes as he continued. "And, frankly, my own, if you were to get yourself into my life."

I wanted to argue with him, tell him that anything that had to do with him _was_ in my best interest. But somehow, the words refused to come out; my throat seemed to be closing in, threatening my ability to breath.

Where was this going? Why was he telling me these things? I frowned, my expression etched into one complex mix of concern, confusion and incomprehension.

Edward took a breath. "And so I believe we should distance ourselves."

My eyes grew wide. "You mean...stop seeing each other? You can't be serious." I didn't care how that came out, and only waited for his reply.

There was none.

With that one silent sentence, that wordless form of communication, my world seemed to cave in inside of me. All of my previous feelings of joy were abruptly obliterated, replaced by anger and sadness and disbelief. I was speechless, and probably standing there like some dumbstruck fool, about to cry her eyes out.

But, strangely, the tears refused to come. It was almost as if my eyes were dry, incapable of producing the salty drops of water. Even if I had wanted to, I don't think I could have forced them to come out.

But the lack of tears didn't say anything about what I was feeling.

Edward was standing there cautiously, as if gauging my reaction. His perfectly arched eyebrow was furrowed in concentration, trying to see what state of emotional breakdown I was in. And, like the fool I was, I was only able to whisper a simple, "Oh."

"It's for the best, I assure you," he said, looking at me carefully. "I don't mean any disrespect, and I think you're a wonderful girl, but my line of work is nothing for you to get involved with. Maybe, someday, we can be...friends, but not now. My business is extremely serious and dangerous; you'd regret it if you were to get into a deeper relationship with me. It really is best that we stay...acquaintances." He took another deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut tightly.

I however, did exactly the opposite.

My eyes were wide and alert, taking in every line, every detail of his face. For some reason, my mind, and perhaps my heart, wanted to keep his beautiful picture stored in my mind forever, even if the image would always be associated with hurt. Nothing mattered to me, except remembering the first man I ever loved.

Even if he, apparently, didn't love me back.

And so, as I studied Edward's face, he seemed to silently be doing the same with my own, although I'm not sure for the same reasons. We stood there, not paying any attention to the freezing air, staring at each other without blinking. The icy breeze was raising goosebumps on the bare skin of my arms, though, and the cold was getting to me minute by minute, until Edward said something about me freezing over and that I should go inside before I catch a cold.

"No, I'm fine," I lied, my teeth chattering. After all, I was anything _but_ fine, in so many ways.

But, somehow, I knew that this would be our last time alone together, possibly for forever. And so I was going to relish it, soak up every moment humanly possible, and then stall some more. Anything that would get me a minute—no, even a second longer with Edward. No longer did I care if he hated me, or was absolutely disgusted by my very presence; I was going to savor every final moment with him, even if it killed me later on.

But, as I knew it would, the time came when Edward cleared his throat, and I clenched my jaw, knowing what was coming. We would say goodbye, and he would ride off into the sunset never remembering poor little Bella Swan, the girl who thought they could ever be more than "just friends".

I bit my lip angrily, looking to the ground. "So I suppose this is goodbye, then," I said quietly.

I waited for him to retort something sarcastic like, "Yes, indeed goodbye. Thank God I don't have to spend time with you anymore," or "Bye, bye, sucker. Have fun trying to find another man willing to marry you," or even, "Farewell! And by the way, I hope you can come to my wedding with Lauren Mallory." I cringed inwardly at that last one, not letting myself go any further with that idea.

When he didn't reply, I looked up. Edward was glaring hardly at the ground, his jaw clenched and his eyebrows furrowed. And although we had only just finished our previous conversation, I could tell his mind was on something else. "Edward," I said softly.

He looked up sharply, but his expression softened instantly. "Bella," he said, and my heart soared involuntarily at the musical sound. "I just want you to know that you _are_ a lovely girl. And stop being so hard on yourself." He smiled, but it didn't quite touch his eyes.

"Thank you," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Goodbye." _Goodbye forever._

At this point, as I looked at Edward's sad, serious face, I could finally feel the salty tears welling up in my eyes. They maliciously threatened to fall unstoppingly at any random given moment, and I knew I had to get out of here. Away from Edward, away from this creep joint, away from this town.

Away from myself.

Without another word, I ran off, sprinting around the building and onto the road. And, although it took every ounce of self control in my body, I forced myself to not look back at him; it would kill me if he saw me cry. After all, crying meant sadness, and if he noticed that emotion going through my body, he would feel pity for me. I couldn't take pity right now.

As I ran, the wind lashed against my face like an icy, biting whip. My wet eyes were stinging, though I refused to let the tears fall (yet), and I was tripping constantly. But I didn't care. No thought went through my head as I trudged on throught the cold air.

My mind was numb, my heart void of all emotion. It was like I was in a strange trance, one that, as long as I was within a mile or two of Edward, would not be broken. But somehow I knew that, once I was completely away from him, it would shatter into millions of tiny pieces.

Just like my heart would.

Because of the strange, mystifying numbness, my legs were not connected to my mind. They were going wherever they wanted to go, which, apparently, was the exactly track back to where I had originally come from: Marty's Malt Shop.

I suppose that part of me, my subconscious, needed someone. Well, not just anyone, but someone in particular: Goldy Harrods. Maybe I was thinking she'd still be there; maybe it was only wishful thinking. Maybe she would have gone by now, convinced, as I had been, that Edward had indeed swept me into his arms and carried me off in to the sunset, destined to marry each other and live happily ever after.

Or maybe, as I had thought even before I met the little green-eyed girl, that I had come here just to sit and think by myself. Perhaps my mind wanted private "Leave Me Alone Time", a time designated for absolutely no interruptions whatsoever. It could possibly be what I needed most.

But, as I stumbled through the door, the tiny bell jingling, I realized I would not make it anywhere but the nearest booth. Not caring if there was anyone occupying it already, I fell (literally) into the seat with a loud _plop_. I buried my head in my arms and began to sob uncontrollably; if people were looking I, frankly, didn't give a donkey's ass. But then I heard the voice.

"Now why's a pretty little belle like you crying so?"

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**Okay, I admit it. I am officially evil.**

**I was planning on cutting it off where she sits down and starts her crying jag, but I just HAD to add that little cliffie in there. Maybe I just wanted to get it out of my system...or maybe I was just offering it as a distraction from the fact that Edward basically told Bella to leave him alone...?**

**Teehee.**

**Anyway, I really wanted to get this out for the holidays, you know, as a teensy Chriskwanzikkuh gift from me to you lovely people. And you know what would be a great gift from you to me (it's also my eighteenth birthday in a couple weeks!)? A little visit to that cute little green button right around the middle bottom of the page!!!!**

**Hope you don't hate me too much!!**

**Belle**


	10. Jasper

**Thanks so much, yet again, for all of the support!**

**As _always_****, this chapter is dedicated to you beautiful little reviewers. However, this week, I'd like to send out a _special_ dedication to starlily and Lovelikethemovies, who _completely_ hit it on the dot when they guessed who the mysterious voice belonged to. Also, Lilly****, who left the most beautiful review ever; I almost cried when you compared me to two of my most FAVORITE authors ever: Stephenie Meyer and Jane Austen!**

**Happy reading, and I know you'll love this chapter! My longest one yet, might I add. As Zaneeta Shinn would say, Ye Gods!**

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"Now why's a pretty little belle like you crying so?"

Hearing this strangely sudden, and unbearably unwanted question, I pulled my head up warily, my vision blurry from my tears. I gazed through them reluctantly, not straining to try to wipe them away, and thumped my head back down on my arms when I realized I didn't even care.

I was far too into my own problems to care if anyone even..._cared_. Who was this person, and why were they so nosy? I felt the urge to sit up and glare at them, but decided I didn't have enough energy- physical or emotional- to do so.

The soft voice, low and husky and most_ definitely_ masculine, had a thick southern drawl mixed into it. But, strangely enough, the rough texture that seemed to belong to it didn't affect the luxurious smoothness at all, the velvety way it came out. "You can tell me..." He was still going on, for some reason, and I could tell he was smiling, even though he seemed to know my present case of apparent unhappiness.

I wanted to look up at him and respond sarcastically, "Yeah, sure Mister Wonderful Soothing Deceiving Voice. I'll just let you, a total and complete stranger, into my personal life without the slightest hesitation." For a moment, I thought about actually looking up to see if he was serious, or if this was just a joke, but I knew that the pooling water in my eyes would surely prevent me from seeing him clearly.

So I didn't respond.

And, after the way I blatantly ignored him, I thought I had actually scared him off. _Good_, I thought bitterly, _I just managed to make another beautiful man think I'm a complete freak_. I sat in my rancorous, acidic silence, cursing myself and the world I lived in for landing me in such a godawful place on Earth.

But, seeing that I wasn't going to answer him any time soon, the man continued, seemingly oblivious to the sour disdain I presented to him. He had an almost _cheerful-_ I shuddered at the small, mocking word_-_ concern evident in the way he spoke. "Come on now," he said, an encouraging grin evident in the way continued to speak. "Are you mute? Or has the cat just got your tongue?"

He was waiting for me to answer, a patient silence hanging in the air. It was almost as if he was trying to show me something. Maybe he wanted to let me know he could take whatever I was ready to give him, that he could handle all of my problems. Maybe he just wanted me to understand that he wouldn't be moving anytime soon, that he wouldn't leave until I spilled all of my deepest darkest secrets to him.

Again, that thought, dripping with an unsweetened sarcasm, rang through my head like a deep church bell. My eyes squeezed shut even tighter, if that were possible, and I strained with all my might to keep them that way. It was almost as if I believed that, if I were to shut them tightly enough, I could block out the rest of the world and throw myself into a peaceful, thoughtless oblivion.

I kept my head down, buried deep within my arms so that no light could even have a chance of seeing my face. But, even with this barrier, I couldn't seem to escape the sound of his voice.

The way he spoke, so soft and smooth that it seemed like the sound was made purely out of velvet, reminded me too much of another beautiful voice I knew too well. My mind briefly flitted back to Edward, as it usually did on a daily basis, but this time it was different.

The mere thought of him, that short, fleeting glimpse of his face, brought a sting to my heart, as if it was shot with a bolt of electricity. It wasn't the elictricity I was used to, however, the tingly, sweet feeling I got whenever I was around him, but a painful, frightening sting that echoed throughout the rest of my body. Feeling this, I immediately pushed the thought of him into the back of my mind.

That is, of course, not before a whole new round of choked sobs escaped my lips.

I didn't feel like speaking to anyone at all, much less this smooth-talking man sitting in the same booth as me. As far as I knew, my life was over. Done for. There was no reason to keep going on with it all, I thought, and therefore figured I would just mope around all the time, depressed and feeling sorry for myself. "Might as well save myself the trouble and just sit here in this very booth for all of eternity," I muttered sourly to myself.

"Now, is that a positive attitude?" The wonderful voice chuckled.

My face immediately flushed as I realized I had said this aloud. _I suppose I really am going crazy_, I thought darkly, laughing humorlessly to myself. Then the annoyance hit me: who the hell did this man think he was? Why was he even talking to me, when I clearly didn't want to converse with anyone at this moment? My head shot up, my hands wiping away the now-flowing stream of salty tears that were blurring my vision.

My breath caught in my throat because there, before me, was the second-most gorgeous man I had ever laid my eyes on.

He was sitting casually, one arm draped lazily over the back of the opposite booth, as if he were sitting right in his own home, having a cup of coffee with me. This strange nonchalance slightly peeved me; who was he to sit here and demand to know about my own personal life? This thought, however, was completely washed over as I saw his face.

He was smiling at me, a calm, almost teasing emanation present in the way his lips curved upwards. His complexion was rich and tan, as if he had spent his whole life bathing in the sun, and his eyes were a startling electric blue, like a clear stream. They gazed at me from behind disheveled blonde hair, full of intellect and awareness, and I felt like he could see right through me.

And, as I pried my eyes away from his face (a task entirely too hard for what it should be), I noticed that he was wearing a soldier's uniform. This was a shock to me, for some reason, but as I stared at it longer, I realized that it was different from both Edward's and the one worn by the man I met on the street.

Instead of being a standard brown cotton, button-up coat and pants, I saw that a large white square was sewn onto the front, secured at the bottom by a bulky belt. On the square itself a sizable cross lay emblazoned on stark white, the cross blood red in color. It was identical to a sign one would see at a hospital or care center of sorts, the emblem universally recognized as the belonging symbol to a medical practitioner.

As I found this, I began to notice that the sign seemed to be everywhere on his uniform: one on each upper arm, one on his side, his bag that lay beside him on the table. I wondered if he was a doctor or something.

"I'm a medic," he suddenly said with a smile, watching me as I studied him. "Don't really fight. I just run around the grounds, scoping for dead or dying soldiers I can take care of."

I blushed and looked down at my hands, realizing that I had been staring at him for way too long a time. My cheeks were blood red, I was sure, and I knew I had to mind my own business before I made a fool of myself in front of yet _another_ gorgeous man.

But then what he had said processed in my mind, and my eyes shot up again. "A...medic?" I whispered, my voice harsh and raw from crying.

"Ah! So she does speak!" He grinned teasingly. "And, yes. A medic. Now, who, may I ask, is this beautiful thing, and why she is crying chugged full?" His southern accent was now more present than ever, and I had to struggle to pay attention to the words, and not the sound of his wonderful voice.

"Um...Bella. Bella Swan."

He reached out and took one of my hands, paying no mind to the fact that it was covered in wet tears. Lifting it slowly up to his face, he pressed his lips softly to the back of my hand, making my previous blush ignite furiously. "Well, then, Bella Swan, it's very nice to meet you. I'm Jasper Whitlock." Jasper...the name seemed to fit him.

We sat there in silence for a few moments, until he continued. "Now, ma'am, I know you don't know me, and I don't know you, but I think that you ought to tell me what's on your mind. I mean, it must be hard for a pretty little lady like you to be holdin' such heavy matters in. So go on, give down the country."

The fact that the man, Jasper, was so seriously lighthearted in his uses of Southern phrases was almost comical. If it had been any other time, and if I were in the middle of any other circumstance, I would have undoubtedly giggled. But instead, I just stared at him, and whispered, "I don't think that's a good idea."

"And why not?" His expression was mockingly outraged, as if this one little refusing statement was extremely offensive to him.

I just sat there, blinking at him, until I finally said, "I don't know you."

Jasper shook his head, smiling a small smile as if to say, _"Oh, silly Bella, you don't know what you're talking about"_. He brought his hands together, clasping them, and rested his chin on them. "Ah, but Miss Swan, you do. Did we not just exchange a form of personal information? I do believe that constitutes a state of knowing one another."

But I knew better than to give in so easily. I might have done it out of shock earlier, with Goldy Harrods, but now my mind was sharp and clear. What was my business was exactly that: my business. Not some strange, young Texan's that probably served under the command of the man I was trying to avoid even thinking about.

And, furthermore, it was officially against my personal commandments to trust any man, whether it be in the pursuit of a romantic relationship or not. It was entirely too dangerous, and to have my heart take any more break would just be...too much.

Sensing that I was definitely not talking to him any more, Jasper started again. "Okay, so maybe you're right. We don't know each other. But sometimes it's in one's best interest to confide in someone you'll probably never speak to again. And ain't that the prime meaning of it all?" Silence.

He sighed, now, and looked at me with the most determined look in his clear blue eyes. "Well, Bella. Since you're apparently not going to be telling me what's wrong, I may have to force it out of you." He seemed to recognize the confused expression on my face and continued. "How about this: you only tell me your problem if I can guess it. You don't even have to utter a word out of your pretty little mouth. Just nod yes or no."

This was dangerous territory. Part of my mind was screaming at me to just get out of there, to leave this booth and Jasper and his beautiful voice behind, to go somewhere else to wallow in my personal misery, where this location had failed. And the worst part was that I felt like I was being lured into a trap, a ploy to bring out my anguish from its holding within my body.

But then again, Jasper Whitlock had a point. How bad could this be? This way, I wasn't putting my entire trust in him, and I wasn't telling him anything directly. He was simply being clever, and I had no choice but to tell the truth (hadn't I always shunned upon equivocation?). And, hell, maybe he was right: perhaps it _was_ good to just let something go, to just lift the weight off your shoulders, if even for a moment.

Hesitating slightly, blinking through my stinging tears, I nodded.

A large grin spread across his face with my small movement. But then he paused. "But you gotta promise me something, okay? You have to tell the truth. No fibbing, no fabrication, and most definitely no editing. If it's the truth, it's the truth. I don't want to be hollerin' like a stuck pig." At this, he smirked. "So, do you promise?"

And so it began.

............................................

Okay, so I'll admit that I was getting a little annoyed.

Jasper had been studying me thoughtfully for about eight straight minutes now, a pensive countenance evident in his entire demeanor. His eyes, crisp and blue, gazed over my face again and again, often lingering on my eyes. I gazed back wearily, holding back the urge to look away from his icy hold, as he peered into my soul.

At least, that's what it felt like. It was almost creepy, the way he seemed to be so clearly understanding everything he sought, whatever that may have been. Still, I stayed quiet, waiting for the much-anticipated guessing that he was now, somewhat unfortunately, entitled to.

But one part of me- an extremely small, almost infinitesimal part, might I add- felt a strange itch to know what he would ask. Would he guess that the foundation of my crying had been mere family problems? I pondered over that thought, and then wondered about how I would answer that. It wasn't entirely the truth, though I suppose part of my angst these days was the fact that Larry was out in some God-forsaken sea near Europe, risking his life. But, then again, no. To say that the reason I was sobbing was my brother was a lie.

But what if he asked if it was trouble with my beau? As I considered this, I realized I had no idea how I would respond to that. What exactly was Edward to me? Or rather, what _had_ he been? It seemed juvenile and incomplete to say that we were just friends, but at the same time, how could I ever assume that we were more than that? Sighing, I decided that, if he were to ask about boys and men, I would tell him the truth: yes. Yes, it was.

He would never guess who I was talking about in a million years. No, a trillion years would go by before the name could ever even cross his mind. I was sure of it. He would hypothesize and conjecture, until he would finally give in and say that he could no longer think. Or, he would simply ask me who it was. And I wouldn't tell him.

It was all part of the plan, see: he would say that I was inclined, even entitled to speaking nothing but the truth, I would shoot back with, "I am". I would straightforwardly tell him that the rules of his little game clearly stated that I was not in any way liable to speaking. Which, of course, would immediately be followed by silence on both of our parts, and eventually lead him to frustratedly getting up and walking away from me, leaving me to my peace, or lack thereof. Anyway, as I said, it was all part of the plan, and as I watched him finally open his mouth to speak, I felt a sick, almost masochistic satisfaction welling up inside me.

"Did Edward Cullen do this to you?"

I felt my jaw practically drop to the floor in utter shock. "What?!" I practically screeched, furious indignation dripping from my high-pitched tone (my voice tended to go unnaturally high when I was really outraged). "How the hell did you know?" The words came out half-strangled, as I was anything _but_ prepared for using them.

Jasper, who had, until this point, not heard me speak anything but a muttered jumble of words or some whispered locutions. My outburst caused him to sort of shrink back into his seat, seeming extremely alarmed to the point of being almost frightened. "Well," he began, getting ore confident as he continued. "You seemed too...emotionally crushed to have undergone any real family issues or trivial problems, like school or disciplinary trouble. Not that you would be in any of that." He chuckled.

I glared at him, and his eyes widened before he hurriedly continued. "And so, I figured there was some man. And plus, you seemed awfully guarded from me, like you were afraid to trust me or something." He stopped for a moment, thinking. "And then you commented about my uniform. Or, rather, just stared at it until I explained it. Anyway, I reckoned you knew someone in the military, and since I ruled out family trouble, it had to be a romantic interest."

"Previous romantic interest," I cut in bitterly.

He raised an eyebrow, but went on anyway. "Okay, _previous_ romantic interest. The point is that there was definitely some kind of underlying passionate inconvenience, as if there had been some definite affair with a man- a soldier- but ended up in a whole mess of complications. This subject being done, I went on to think about who it could possibly have been to upset you like this. I ran over all the soldiers here, and none of them seemed right. Excuse me, ma'am, for making assumptions, but you don't seem like a girl who would go for just any dumb ol' bag of potatoes. And, really, that left only one man: Lieutenant General Cullen."

He stopped, thinking for a moment. "And then it all sort of came together. Edward seemed to be the only practical choice for you; where most of the men were rowdy and boisterous and over-the-top, Edward has always been calm and serious and reasonable, which seems to fit your personality. Now, maybe I'm wrong, but you don't exactly seem like the type of girl that's stupid and loud: the complete opposite of anyone that Edward would ever go for."

This made complete sense to me. In the time I'd spent with him over the past few months, Edward had always seemed too polite, too sensible to want to be around girls like Lauren Mallory. Though this realization had little affect on my heart, my mind was noticing things about him that rarely sunk into my immense jealously. I mean, I had eyes; I saw the way he would reluctantly respond whenever a pretty girl said hello to him, or the way he would shy away from the obvious flirting that would occur whenever we went to the movies or the park. This, however, just processed in my thoughts as him being polite, not wanting to hurt my feelings by fancying other women in my presence.

I looked silently on as Jasper continued. "But the real signal that it was Edward was the way he had been acting since we arrived in Arlington. He's been lighthearted and cheery most of the time, cracking jokes and laughing alongside the men. He smiles almost constantly, and rarely ever lashes out against me or one of the soldiers. What's more, he's even postponed some of the paperwork he's required to do for General Collins." At this, he shook his head, and the raised his eyes so that the striking blue was pointed directly at me. "Now, ma'am, I don't know if anyone's ever told you, but Edward Cullen is a man who never procrastinates, especially when it comes to business."

I nodded solemnly as I thought back to the man I'd talked with out on the street earlier._ "You don't come between the General and his busy-ness,"_ he'd said. Now, as Jasper told me this, it was confirmed.

But then something struck me. "Jasper, you called him Edward. Do you know him well? I've only heard soldiers call him...General Cullen."

A small, reminiscent smile spread across his face. "Yes, I do. I've known little Eddie since...oh, gosh, I don't even know." He chuckled. "Since we were ten, I suppose. We grew up together until high school, when he decided to enter the military. I stayed home, of course, since he made me promise I'd take good care of his baby sister and mother, Elizabeth, who was absolutely heartbroken that her only son had gone away to war. She tried to convince him to stay, but he wouldn't hear it. Said somethin' about a man needing to protect his country."

This new information was a surprise to me: although Edward and I had talked about nearly everything together, I had never heard him mention his family. And, suddenly, I recalled a conversation we'd had; one the first we'd ever had, actually.

_But didn't you ever stop to think about what your family would say? How they would be hurt by your absence? Don't you know what it's like not to know if someone you love isn't coming back?_ I'd asked bitterly that night, drenched in the freezing rain, as I was carried in Edward's arms. I remember he hadn't replied, but instead said something in retort with a cold tone, immediately denouncing the topic.

But I didn't mention any of this to Jasper. "That was awfully nice of you, to help your friend like that," I said softly. "But, may I ask, if you promised to take care of his family, then why did you become a medic? What happened to the Cullen women?"

He shook his head. "Not Cullen. Masen. Edward's real name is Masen. When he went to war, Edward wanted to make sure his family had no way of contacting him. He thought it would be too hard, too difficult for them to constantly be worried about if they would ever receive another letter, another telegram. He thought if he cut all ties with them, they would forget about him and would go on living their life. Of course, that didn't happen." Jasper sighed. "And so Edward took his uncle's name, Cullen."

That explained it. Edward never told me about his family because it _hurt_ him. After all, anyone would become bitter and lonely after being away from their family for years. Even in my current state of depression, I couldn't help but feel sympathy for the man that suffered alone in effort to ease his loved ones' sadness.

"Anyway," Jasper continued. "It ended up that there was a deficiency in the medical department for the war. They needed doctors, and _now_. I had been going to medical school at the time, and it only seemed the right thing to do. So I packed my things, helped Edward's mother and sister move into an old friend's house, and went directly to the nearest Recruitment Center. Next thing I knew I was working alongside my best friends, out on the battlefields of misery."

"Poor Edward," I whispered. To have to leave your family, and then find out you might lose your best friend, too? I knew I would never be able to take it.

Jasper nodded. "At first, he didn't take it too well. In fact, the first time he laid eyes on me in this good ol' uniform right here, he just about nearly killed me. You should of seen him, throwin' his arms about with his face all red and outraged...it was the first and only time in my life I'd seen Edward Cullen throw a tantrum like a child.

"But of course, he got over it." He sighed. "After all, he would seem the biggest hypocrite in the world if he were to criticize a man, his best friend even, for going into war when he was so big on it himself in the beginning."

I thought back to what he'd said about Edward, and thought briefly back to the same conversation I'd reflected upon earlier, when Edward and I had known each other for just a few hours. The way he spoke so proudly about his country, and how stubborn he seemed about it, had reminded me so much of my brother, and how, no matter how much we fought him on it, he would not give in.

Jasper proceeded to talk. "Eventually, he got himself promoted to first lieutenant, and captain, and major. I watched him as he climbed even further up to Brigadier General and Major General, and finally, before I or anyone else could possibly believe it, my old friend Ed Masen became Lieutenant General Edward Cullen." Jasper sighed once more, running a hand through his hair. "And you know what the strangest thing was? Even stranger than the fact that he refused to be kept in an office, and instead stayed out in the fields, among the mere privates. Even stranger than the way he faced the entire war with an emotionless expression, as if he had no feeling whatsoever.

"No, Bella, the strangest thing was that he kept me by his side, the whole way through. Countless of times he was offered a more experienced doctor, a medic that would truly know what he was doing out there on the fields. But, every time, he refused, saying that he'd never seen any better MD than my own self.

"And, so it's been for the past...whenever. A few months ago the men in the Infantry Squad received orders from the Army General to go home. They were due rest, ma'am, as they hadn't been home in a couple years or so. However, they couldn't go back without the accompaniment of a higher ranking officer, and since Edward was "entitled" time off, they told him to go."

Jasper chuckled. "They had to practically force poor old Edward to take a brake. He was always so serious, and the only thing the men wanted was to see him let loose, even if it was only to be for a little bit. They were convinced that there was a wild horse waitin' to gallop inside the oh-so-serious Lieutenant General's heart."

Slowly, unwillingly, I felt a small smile spread across my face, and I nodded. "I know what you mean," I said quietly. "Sometimes he was just so darn polite that I wanted to shake him and scream, 'Let yourself go! You're nineteen, for God's sake!'"

Exhaling, Jasper said, "Yeah. Sometimes it was easy to forget that he wasn't even supposed to be a man yet. But that's the way it always was with him. Which was why, when we first came here to Arlington, we were all so surprised by his carefree boyish attitude." Jasper looked slyly at me, raising an eyebrow. "We were all thinking, 'Could it really be that one girl could break the General's harsh exterior?'"

I blushed and looked down at my hands. "Well, I don't know about that..."

Around us, the malt shop was anything but quiet. Teenagers, raging with hormones like a volcanos ready to explode, were laughing and cheering and dancing and singing merrily, all enjoying the company of their friends. Frank Sinatra's "I'm in the Mood for Love" played sweetly in the background, the piano's melodious voice rang through the air, hanging on to the very last second until a new soft harmony took over. The mixing smells of sugar and candy and sweet, sweet things wafted through my senses, and suddenly I felt overwhelmed.

Or rather, lonely.

"I met Edward the day your soldiers came home," I found myself saying. "I was...I was at the corner shop, arguing about oil prices with Mr. Sentry. He claimed he had never raised his prices, and that I was either imagining things or my baby sister was lying." I chuckled, remembering that day as if it were yesterday.

And so, for whatever reason, I told him. I told Jasper everything that had happened in the past months I'd known Edward. I don't know why, or how I even did it, but I did. And it happened. And he listened to me carefully, listening with that same serious expression as he had earlier, when he was analyzing me and guessing my story. It was different, though, than it had been when I was spilling everything to Goldy.

Perhaps it was because I had been telling it for a different reason. Instead of seeking how I felt about Edward, I now searched for a way to stop feeling for him. Subconsciously, I suppose, all I was really looking for was a way to mend my shattered heart. Not fix, entirely, but just mend. I knew that there would never be a way to fully forget about him and what had happened between us, but all I could possibly hope for was a way to soothe the throbbing ache that presented itself in my current state of heart brake.

"And now, I just don't _know_!" I cried exasperatedly. "It's just that when I finally realize that I'm in love with the man, he turns coldly away from me! Don't get me wrong, I understand that his work is extremely important to him...probably more important than I could ever be to him...but why must it happen so quickly and...harshly? I love him, Jasper!" I whispered the last part urgently, willing him to understand where I was coming from.

For a moment, Jasper didn't respond. He just sat there, my words processing in his mind. Then slowly, carefully, he simply said three words.

"Then, tell him."

I laughed humorlessly. "You're a funny man, Mr. Whitlock." I shook my head, letting my bitter chuckle die down quickly. But then, as I raised my eyes again to see why he wasn't laughing, I realized that he was serious. So serious, in fact, that his eyes, those piercing, clear blue eyes, were gazing at me intently, as if this were the most critical thing. "Wait a minute, wait, wait. You're _serious_?"

"Bella, does it look like I'm kidding?"

"Well, no...But-"

"What you're not understanding is that Edward has shied away from any type of relationship before. Of course, women of all ages have practically thrown themselves at him, and yet he's always distance himself, always finds a way out of the situation. He's a man, in the extremely physical and mental sense of the word, and yet, he's still emotionally just a nineteen year old boy. He's never been so strongly connected to anyone before, and it scares him." Jasper's eyes became even more intense. "He's _scared_, Bella."

This hit me more than anything Jasper had said to me today. Could what he was saying really be true? Could Edward really be recoiling from me because of his inexperience in romantic relationships? Whenever I had previously thought of Edward, I'd always imagined him as this sort of Adonis heartthrob that'd had hundreds of women. The kind that was a capable expert in anything amour. But now, I wasn't so sure. Could it be that he was nervous? That he was unsure of what he was supposed to do? That he was just as apprehensive, just as skittish, just as afraid as...

As me?

"Do you really think so, Jasper?" I whispered, my eyebrows furrowing. I put my hands to my head, rubbing my temples.

"Bella, I would tell you nothing but the truth." Jasper smiled, loosening the tension a little, and I could feel myself starting to smile. "So go ahead. Go! You have to find your lover-man. And make sure you're yourself. Don't be changing to nothin' you're not, because the Lord knows that a whistling woman and a crowing hen never comes to a very good end."

I grinned, energized and just _psyched_ at this sudden realization. Maybe Jasper was right; I deserved to let out my feelings for Edward, even if he wasn't ready to return them _just_ yet. Smiling, I got up from the booth, walking towards the door.

"Thank you Jasper Whitlock," I said sincerely. "I will never forget this conversation, or you."

He smiled. "And I, you, Bella Swan. Now go get your lover-man."

"Bye, and thanks again!"

"Good day, ma'am."

With these final words, I gripped the old door handle even tighter, taking one more moment to take in the atmosphere. For one more second, I listened to the Frank Sinatra, I heard the laughs, saw the dancing, and smelled the sugary aroma. Taking this all in, I smiled to myself once more, and opened the door to outside.

And, quite possibly, my future.


	11. Break

**Gosh, guys, I might start sounding like, uber mundane, but thank you SO much!**

**It's insane how much support I'm getting for this story. I had no idea you guys would like it so much when I started it. Honestly, I believed that it would be so-so story that would barely even graze 150 reviews by the end of the twenty-something chapters. Instead, it's gotten over 400 by the tenth chapter. Can you say crazy much?**

**Anyway, before I finally go on with the story, I just need to quickly apologize for what's seeming to be the constant, dreaded "Bella Thinking" chapters. Don't act like you don't know what I mean. You know, those chapters where the entirety of the page is spent on Bella's utter, deep, and personal thoughts? Yes, I agree that they are pretty much boring as heck, and that most of you just skip over them to get to the action (Heaven knows I'm one for skimming when the paragraphs just tend to blur together in one mash of unawesometasticness), but just bear with me. A lot of these thoughts are crucial to the plot line of the story, and are very much seeking attention. **

**Thanks again, and here's your darn chapter already!**

* * *

_"Truth is beautiful, without doubt; but so are lies."  
Ralph Waldo Emerson_

It was as if I was on some kind of high.

As I threw open the old door with a bit too much gusto, the wind, as bone-chilling as it was, was strangely welcome on my flushed skin, heated from my recent bout of eager anticipation. Though the usually undesirable sensation didn't fail to prick my skin with those dreaded invisible pins and needles, I barely noticed it. There were far more important concerns in the front of my mind at the moment.

Like, what I would say once I got to Edward. I mean, what do you say in a situation like that? _Hello Edward, no I realize that you just dumped me like a sack of moldy potatoes, but I just wanted to tell you that I'm still madly in love with you, and I don't care what you say_. I snorted to myself, thinking about just how great that would go over. This way, he wouldn't _just_ think I wasn't worthwhile in a romantic relationship, but additionally not worthwhile living in the normal, human, _sane_ world.

Then what would I say? How could I possibly express what I was feeling for him into words, without scaring him off? It wasn't as if the things I had to say were easy to explain, certainly. I knew I loved him, of course, even that I was in love with him. But what else could I say? And how would he react to that?

And then I realized I had absolutely _no_ idea where I went next.

"Okay, Bella," I told myself, trying frantically, to no avail, to contain my panic. "Think. _Think_. If you were a positively drop-dead gorgeous lieutenant general in the United States Military with an incredibly depressing life story that still somehow happens to be wonderfully beautiful, what would be the first place you would go after dumping the girl that has been secretly pining for you, even though you have no idea yet?"

Well, maybe not...

Ah, damn.

I growled at my own idiocy and sank to the cold sidewalk. The paved cement was slick with ice, and immediately a chill went through my body as the frigid stone touched my skin through the thin material of my dress. I barely noticed, though, as I was far too preoccupied with solving the conundrum that had recently presented itself to me.

And it certainly was. A dilemma, that is. Wondering how I could have possibly made the silly mistake, I decided that I must have been too engrossed in the mix of emotions I had been feeling when I had ultimately established the idea that I would, in fact, be going to talk to Edward. But that was nothing to dwell on now. As my mother had always told me, "Let the past be the past before it bites you in the...well, you know what I mean." I had always had to fight to contain my giggle when she refused to swear in front of us children. But, again, now I had more important things to figure out.

No, now I had to goddamn figure out where the hell I was going to find Edward Cullen.

Quickly, my mind did a once-over to all of the places I had ever visited when in the company of Edward. But, God, there were so many. We had gone to practically every worthwhile joint that little old Arlington had to offer. Me, being the lovely tour guide provided specially for him (actually, the only reason I went with the idea of showing him the town was to spend as much time with him as possible), had made sure that there was no desirable place left unattended to, in terms of his own feelings.

And it was the truth. We had gone everywhere, from the old pond in the middle of town to feed the ducks, to touring the town's only museum, which basically contained the history of Arlington (the last, what, fifteen years or so?) and it's mayors. There wasn't much to see here, and certainly nothing much came to mind when I thought about where Edward would want to visit again.

There was, of course, the slim possibility that he had stayed in the army head quarters, or lack thereof, in that rickety old building at the edge of town, but I highly doubted that. If he had been working, I don't think Jasper would have offered the idea of going to him in front of me. After all, the entire infantry squad seemed to have the thought that Edward's work was the number one priority fixated into their minds. And I was not planning to reinforce that idea, especially after what had happened a few hours ago.

I felt a pain shoot through my heart immediately at the thought of Edward's cold expression earlier. He had been so detached, every part of him unfeeling and indifferent. Even as the words escaped his lips, they didn't seem to be connected with his expression at all.

Sighing, I realized that I was doing now what I was about to do all that time ago.

I had been so prepared, so ready to profess my love for him in that moment. I never thought that he would actually reject me. I suppose that I had the idea fixated into my mind that it would happen as fairy tales did; that he would sweep me off my feet and lavish me with kisses the moment I uttered the words. It was a far-fetched idea, yes, but my mind could think nothing otherwise in my previous state of eager enthusiasm.

Now, though, it was different, even though the circumstances were practically the same. Before I had been so blissfully ignorant, so benighted, but now I knew that my love for Edward was, and would always be, one-sided. And, though I would forever be in love with him, I had a vain hope in both my heart and mind that simply telling him _of_ that love would ease the parting blow.

Which, of course, brought me back to the present moment, and to the present problem I had.

Before I could think of anything else, I heard the faint sound of a car honking and people cheering and laughing. And, soon enough, I could see a shiny red, new Cadillac convertible approaching in the distance, full of flamboyant teenagers practically hanging off the sides.

As the car drew closer, I saw that I could recognize a few of the people from my school. Randall Burnstein, a senior just a year older than me, was behind the wheel, a fat cigar dangling lazily from his lips. This sight didn't surprise me. It was, after all, a known fact that 1) Randall Burnstein had a father that gambled away all their money, and spent the rare bursts of cash on luxuries and, 2) Randall Burnstein was a raging smoker.

As I squinted, I could also make out the round face of Norma Herbert, the only sophomore in the entire town of Arlington that could pass for both an adult and a kid in grammar school simultaneously. I know it was mean, but it was true. Her body, one that was entirely too overweight and tall, made people think, "Oh, there is no way this girl can be under twenty nine years of age", and her face, which still was peachy and as smooth as a baby's bottom, made them reconsider and say, "There is no way that this girl can be in high school yet." Needless to say, this- her riding in the same car with a bunch of juniors and seniors- made me a bit confused.

I hoped that they wouldn't see me. I'd had enough of everything today, and I really needed to think to myself, without any interruptions.

But of course, with my luck, the Cadillac started to slow down as it rode past me. Over the pounding music from the speakers and the drunken laughs of some girl, I could faintly hear a masculine voice say, "Hey! Shut up for a minute! I think I know that girl!"

Damn it.

Slowly, and hopefully discreetly, I started to stand up and shuffle backwards towards the shop's door, my hair pushed out in front of my face so that they wouldn't see who I was. So far, the voices and the music had only died down infinitesimally, and for a moment I really thought that I would make my escape unnoticed.

No such luck came to me, however, when I could see, from behind my shielding screen of hair, the car slowly backing up until it was directly in front of me, the overall sound now pretty much at a level of...oh, I don't know? Zero.

"Yeah! You see? I _do_ know her! It's Bella Swan!" I looked up, blushing just about five different shades of red, to find the voice of the guy that had brought me into this mess in the first place, and, to my shock, it was none other than Cliff Mahlon.

Cliff was a junior, like me, and was best friends with Mike Newton. It's obvious to say that we had never been close; I never was too much a part of "their kind" of crowd. While they were always out dancing and swinging and drinking malts together, I was stuck at home, tending to my brothers and sisters or helping out with the animals. I was too busy and, frankly, uninterested in hanging out with their superficial, meaningless ideas of "good times".

And, honestly? I had no idea that Cliff even knew who I was other than "The Girl That Mike Always Picks On". In my perspective, I always thought he considered me just some mousy little farm girl that happened to be in a few of his classes. How would I know that he knew I had a name, much less what that name was.

"What's up, Bella?" I turned my head at the sound of Randall Burnstein's deep, slow voice.

I blushed even darker, if that were possible. "Oh, hi Randall. Um, hello Cliff."

Cliff, who had been sitting in the back, leapt over the side of the Cadillac and bounded over to me with that smug, sauntering walk of his. He put his hand on the small of my back and said, "Aw, now why are you always so shy? You shouldn't hide that pretty face beneath that hair." At this, he smirked, leaning in even closer to me as he moved his hand up to my shoulder. "Why don't you and I get out of here and find some place a little more...cosy?"

This comment didn't faze me. It was known throughout the entire school that Cliff Mahlon was a ladies' man, and would go for anything with breasts and a pulse. "Gee, thanks, Cliff, but I'm a little preoccupied at the moment."

He raised an eyebrow. "Preoccupied?"

I sighed and rolled my eyes, swatting his hand away as he tried to inconspicuously inch his fingers under my blouse. With any other guy, this would have triggered a beyond outraged reaction from me, but I, along with just about every other member of the female population, had accepted the fact that this was just him as he was a long time ago. "Yes. Preoccupied. Not that I expect you to know what that word means. Would you like me to explain?"

He grinned, not taking offense in any way. "Nah, I know what it means. Sorta. My ma uses it all the time when I ask her to do something for me." He paused, looking at me for a minute, then started again. "Hey, joking aside, me and the gang here were just about to head down to that party over at Uncle Henry's. Care to join?"

He was talking about Uncle Henry's Pub, the only classy bar in town (at least, as classy as a bar could get in this small old town). I had never been there personally, but had heard much about it. Well, as much as there is to tell about a gin mill. Obviously, the actual alcohol was off limits to the children and teenagers of the town, but rumor has it that if you had the right connections and were easy on the eye, you could sneak a round or two.

But it wasn't the booze, exactly, that made the place so popular. It was the dancing.

Uncle Henry's, or as some liked to call it, Henry's Hideaway, was acknowledged as the communal dance hall for those who just wanted an informal get-together, a place to swing on any day of the week. There was some space, a large jukebox that only cost a dime, and zero parental supervision, and that just made it worthwhile for the teenage population of the town.

I had heard rumors that Uncle Henry's was insanely wild on the weekends. Girls wearing pounds upon pounds of makeup and tight, short dresses that cut off mid-thigh; boys slicking their hair back and pawing every female body that walks by them. Often, I had been able to hear the music pounding from my house late on Friday nights, much to my father's irritation. "Those goddamn kids keeping me up at any and all hours of the night!" He exclaimed. "Thank God you're not like them, Bella..."

_Thank God you're not like them._

I sighed, realizing just how true that statement was. Who could ever picture nice, little, obedient Bella Swan, who never smokes a cigarette, who never sleeps around, hanging out with that rowdy crowd? Who could picture her all decked out and dolled up, dancing the Charleston with some hoodlum in a dingy pub? Who could picture her sneaking out in the middle of the night to meet a man with a reputation, ready to do god-knows-what up at Lover's Rock?

And now, as I stood there with Cliff Mahlon and Randall Burnstein and the Cadillac and Baby-Faced Norma and that damn cigarette smoke wafting in the air, I understood everything. That I would never be that girl, even if I wanted to be. "Really, Cliff, thank you, but-"

But then, when I thought I had everything figured out, it came to me. Uncle Henry's.

I knew then why the name had reminded me of something, of why it had been biting at me since it had been uttered. It had been spoken of a few weeks ago, when Edward and I were sitting in the movie theatre in the next town over, watching Gone With the Wind. We watched in silence as Scarlett learned that her father had died through a letter when he suddenly turned to face me.

_Bella_, he had said. _Do you know a place called Uncle Henry's Pub?_ When I told him yes and asked why, he responded with, _There's a party being thrown there, sort of informally, for the men two weeks and three days from now. Normally, I would just have them go without me, but they won't have it. And, I was wondering, if you'd like to go with me, I'd appreciate it so much. You don't have to, but I'd rather have you with me than just sit there all night long, warding off Lauren Mallory and her evil followers._

I had laughed at the time at his horrified expression; no doubt he was thinking of the constant vexation she would bring to him. I told him that, in that case, it would be unjustly sadistic to let him suffer that way. He smiled at me. _What would I do without you?_

Trying to ignore the sharp stab in my heart- a result from the memory- I brought myself back to the present moment. Could there really be a chance that he would be there, at the party?

The more I thought of it, the more I was certain. He had felt obligated, even then, to go to the pub with his men. Certainly, he could have changed his mind, but I had a strong feeling that his men wouldn't let him back out of the whole thing at the last minute. And plus, now that he didn't have a girl attached to his hip, he could get more work done, and go out more. I thought this last conclusion bitterly, and I tried to keep the feeling out of my expression.

"So, are you going or aren't ya?" I could see that Cliff was becoming impatient, and faintly, I could hear Norma's voice in the background, agreeing with him.

I took a deep breath. "Yes. I would love to, Cliff."

He grinned. "Excellent."

...........................................

At the moment, the only thing I was thinking was: _Thank God this is a small town_.

I don't think I could have taken one more beat of Glenn Miller's "I'm in the Mood", or one more puff of Randall's smoke, or one more time I have to slap away Cliff's hands that were alway seeming to miraculously appear on my inner thighs. To tell the truth, I probably could even take one more hair flick in my face from Norma, who was taking up practically three quarters of the back seat.

Which is why, needless to say, I was beyond ecstatic when we finally arrived, after what seemed like days, at Uncle Henry's Pub. As a matter of fact, I don't think I will ever be so excited to walk into a sweaty, claustrophobic, reeking of alcohol place as I was in that moment.

When I first opened the double doors, my immediate reaction was: "Did we come to the wrong place?"

Because, frankly, I couldn't see what the hype was all about. The place was decorated to be much like a tavern, and a cheesy one at that. Wooden stools and walls, lined with fake gold and adorned with pictures of voluptuous women in brightly colored swimsuits, their puckered lips painted a cherry red as they smiled and posed for the photographer. The dance floor, which was already cluttered with teenagers, looked worn down, as if hundreds of kids had come and gone over the years, stomping and scratching the ground as they came.

I noticed that I was alone now. Norma had gone to the middle of the floor to dance with some skinny boy who looked like he was going to faint, and Cliff was in the back corner, feeling up some freshman in a pink dress. Randall was at the bar, looking like he was trying to persuade the bartender to give him a drink, and the others were scattered about, going to their own business.

I sighed, and as I exhaled I remembered what my reason was for coming here. I scanned the sides of the room quickly, knowing that Edward wouldn't be in the middle, dancing with all of the other hormonal teenagers. He just wasn't like that.

But, as I skimmed over the crowds of people that seemed to be ever-growing, I couldn't find him. And, as I swept the room a second time, and a third, and a fourth, I still could find him. I was getting frustrated. I had noticed many of his soldiers here; where was he?

And suddenly, I saw him. That unmistakable, shining bronze hair, that proud, important stance. I immediately could recognize him, those broad shoulders, those strong arms. It was him, and there was no doubt in my mind that this was the truth. "Edward!" I called unthinkingly, unable to contain the excitement and pure exhilaration from my tone. Adrenaline was rushing through my veins, my entire body tense with absolute and utter thrill.

And then he turned around.

But he wasn't alone. No, practically latched onto his body was a female figure, also one that was painstakingly recognizable. Her eyes were blue and cold, her entire icy expression twisted into pure delight, her long blonde hair cascading down her back. It was Lauren Mallory, and she was dancing with Edward. She was with him.

And suddenly, it all clicked together. Edward's stony look he gave me, the malicious glee in Lauren's eyes whenever she had laid eyes on me in the past few days, it all was like some sick joke on me. Edward hadn't ever had feelings for me. He never cared whether or not I got involved in his dangerous work; he just needed a way to tell me to get the hell out of his life._ And so I believe we should distance ourselves, _he had said to me.

As I gazed upon that messy bronze locks, I realized I had made a terrible mistake. I had called his name loud enough for him to hear, even over the blasting music, and he started to turn his head.

I wanted to run. My mind was screaming at my legs, my feet, _anything_, but nothing would move. All I could think about was his face earlier that day, his cold green eyes that used to light up my life freezing over as he told me that it was best we just be friends. _I don't mean any disrespect,_ he told me, _I think you're a wonderful girl_. Ha. Well, look at that. I'm a wonderful girl, just not worth your time.

But even as I tried to think these spiteful thoughts, even as I tried to be angry, I felt nothing but heartbreak as I stared into those green orbs. It was thousand times worse than today, when he was telling me goodbye, and a million times worse than the constant memories of him that seemed to be flashing in my mind everywhere I looked. It was as if my entire soul, my entire _being_, was being shattered into tiny, painful shards that would take years, possibly forever, to put back together again.

Hurt beyond anyone's comprehension, I watched as Edward's eyes went from confused to understanding, wide with awareness and utter shock. "Bella?"

It was then that my legs finally decided to listen to my mind. I clenched my jaw, refusing to let the tears that were pooling in my eyes to fall over, at least not here. Not now. Not in front of him...I turned around abruptly and ran, out of the door, into the night. It had started to rain, pour even, but I didn't notice. Once I was outside, I broke into sobs, my mangled cries being drowned out by the pounding of the rain. I started to walk blindly, hoping I would get somewhere, anywhere, far away from here.

I could faintly hear someone calling my name, but I ignored it. I bawled as I walked, probably looking like an idiot. I figured my sobs would die down as I walked, certain that, sooner or later, I would run out of tears, and I could finally gain my sanity back. But, as I walked, time passed and the waterfall continued.

And the ache in my heart seemed even stronger with each passing moment.


	12. Love

**You know what? You guys are seriously spoiling me. Like, for real, I'm going to get so used to these wonderful, fruitful reviews that one day, when I write a total suck-ass chapter, I'll be completely devastated when I get negative two hundred and fifty eight reviews. Never been done yet, but if my luck goes down the drain, you betcha, Joe. Sorry, Sarah Palin is my homeboy. Represent.**

**Anyway, back to business. I'd very much like to dedicate this chapter to ****Vampire Extraordinaire****, who pretty much is in desperate need of this chapter. This is to her, who I would hope does not die for, what, the eleventh time by the end of it? And, thanks so much girlfrieeend, for the lovely new addition to the human vocabulary: **_**awesomefabtastilicious**_**. Thank you.**

**Thank you.**

* * *

_"There is no remedy for love but to love more."  
Henry David Thoreau _

And, as promised, the angry, sad, heartbroken tears continued to come.

The scene at the pub kept replaying in my mind over and over, refusing to relent from constantly flashing the cause of my despondency. I was angry that Edward had so blatantly lied to me, embarrassed that I had let myself think that he could ever possibly reciprocate the feelings I had felt for him. I was confused as to why, of all people, he would go for Lauren Mallory, the one person he had made sure everyone knew he held feelings of distaste for. I was miserable, cold, and sad. Oh yes, I was sad.

But the most surprising thing? I wasn't at all shocked at the sight I had seen.

Though I had previously convinced myself that Edward was too good for girls like her, that he would never go for the complete blonde-bimbo type, I knew my efforts in thinking those things had all been in vain. That, no matter how hard I tried, I would never be as pretty as Lauren, as confident as Lauren, as...well, I suppose even large boulder could be smarter than Lauren, but that wasn't the point.

In fact, everything seemed pointless at the moment.

The rain, which had pretty much increased to the point of physically hurting me with every bucket that poured on my head, was like a scene from an overly dramatic movie. The sky was dark, with thick black clouds covering the moon somewhere in the sky. The downpour of freezing water was making me feel as if my head were ready to explode, and by this point my dress, already worn down from all of the wind and glacial conditions it had faced today, was heavy and wearing _me_ down even more with every step I took.

After about five minutes of walking with what felt like fifteen pounds draped on my body, I grabbed the hem of my dress and ripped off the entire bottom piece without thinking. Instantly, I felt freed, liberated. Which of course, only lasted for a few seconds, before the bone-chilling wind hit me in combination with the frozen, icy rain.

So, sure, I look like some desperate hooker in the arctic rain, but at least I wasn't carrying twenty pounds of sopping wet fabric.

I threw the offending shards of fabric to the side of the road, not caring if I was littering or doing some other goddamn crime. All I could think about, still, was Edward. Edward and Lauren. Edward and me.

Now, as I walked, picturing his gorgeous, perfect face in my mind, I thought of how foolish I was to think that he and I could have ever had a future together. I remembered how I had once thought, all those weeks ago, how comparing me to him would be like comparing a mule to a sleek stallion, and now it couldn't be more true. It was simple: I was simple Bella Swan, and he was the divine Edward Cullen.

I sloshed my feet angrily through the muddy puddles that had quickly accumulated on the dirt road, wishing I could just shrink into a hole and die. Truly, there was no reason for my existence in this world anymore. Edward hated me, I was some kind of black sheep to my family, Mr. Sentry thought me to be a nuisance, and the only person in this entire town that seemed to think I had any use was Cliff Mahlon, and even _he_ barely thought twice about me.

Sobbing at these realizations, my legs just gave in. I collapsed into the mud, the rain still pouring its constant pressure on my body. I didn't care. The pain was almost welcome at this point, and I could do nothing but just curl up into a ball and hope I'd pass out or something. As time passed, I could feel my mind drifting slowly, though not to the point of unconsciousness. But soon enough my plan, to my shock, seemed to actually be working.

Because then, a few minutes after I crumbled, I heard the voice of an angel.

"Bella? Bella, where are you? Bella, Bella, please! _Please_, Bella!"

The angel was worried, pained almost. His voice dripping with agony. Through my half-conscious daze, I felt a brief desire to get up and go to the angel and demand why he was so sad. It felt wrong to just sit there and do nothing as the he suffered.

"Bella! Please answer me! Oh, God, Bella! Where are you?"

But I did. Sit there. Every so often, I would feel that same inclination, that same impulse that made me want to get up and find the angel with the beautiful voice. I wanted to soothe him, tell him that everything will work out, even if it wasn't happening for me. But I didn't have to act against that impulse before long, because the angel soon found me.

"Oh, God Bella, please tell me you're not hurt. Are you hurt? Please, Bella, say something." His hands, large and warm, took my face delicately as he cradled his body to my own. His chest, which was rock-solid and also drenched, was strangely welcome and sent a weird feeling coursing through my veins.

This was no angel, I thought suddenly. This was a god. Absolute, perfect features that male celebrities would envy, gorgeous locks that looked wonderful even soaking wet, and those eyes...those piercing green emeralds that were gazing deep into my soul...But as I stared deeper and deeper into them, I slowly regained my consciousness and awareness of where I was.

And, apparently, who I was with.

"Get off me!" I shrieked, pushing with all of the energy I had left to force his body off of mine. It took some effort, especially since he hadn't been expecting it, but as soon as the gesture registered in his mind, he abruptly let me go, as if struck by lightning. I tried not to show him how I stumbled the moment I left his arms.

His face was confused. "Bella, I-"

"Don't!" I screamed. "Don't you _dare_ get anywhere near me!"

"But, I-"

"I hate you, Edward Cullen," I spat, hoping that my heartbroken tears were disguised by the rain. Anything that would hide my true feelings for him. "Get away from me. I never want to see your face again. Especially if you're off making love to a goddamn whore...oops, I mean doing your _work_." I added the last sentence bitterly, refusing to look at his face.

For a moment, I really thought that he would listen to me. That all it would take for him to finally go would be for me to utter the words I did. But as I tried to walk faster, I found that he was keeping up, even easily gaining on me. Soon, he was in front of me, walking backwards so that I had no choice but to look at his face.

"Is that what you really think?" His tone was hard, and his jaw was clenched. "Stop it, Bella. Stop." I refused to even slow my pace. "Goddamn it, Bella! Stop walking!"

I let out a frustrated shriek, but stopped. "What, Edward? What? What can you possibly want to tell me now? That you hope I have a good life, even though you practically spat on it? That it wasn't true, that my eyes were deceiving me when I saw you and Lauren with your hands all over each other?" My voice died down until I wasn't sure if I was speaking to him or myself. "What can you possibly say to make anything better?"

For a long time, we were both silent and still, listening to the rainstorm hammering on. We stood there in the rain, in the middle of the street, staring each other down. Finally, Edward spoke. "You know what I think?" he said, and didn't wait for me to respond. "I think that you don't care about anyone except yourself. You're so wrapped up in how _you_ feel, how _you_ can better your own life, instead of getting the entire story. You jump to your own conclusions, and then become so stubborn that you refuse to accept the truth. You're selfish, Bella Swan." He was smirking, as if he was daring me to lash out.

"How dare you!" I screeched. "You're a liar! I hate you!"

"You think you know everything about everyone. You think you can help those who need it, and yet, you don't know how much fixing you need yourself. You don't realize just how miserable you really are with the life you have. You spend your days like a goddamn puppet, Bella, and you don't even see it. But you hate that you're different. You hate that everyone thinks you're odd, even though you try to put on a tough exterior."

"Stop!" I cried, sobbing as every true word escaped his lips. "Stop it, damn it!"

"You think you understand it all, but the truth is: you don't. You don't understand a goddamn thing about yourself, Bella, and, however ironic it might seem, _you're_ the only one who doesn't know it." I was pounding my fists pathetically on his chest now, trying to get him to stop speaking the awful things I knew were the truth. "Just admit it, Bella. This isn't about Lauren, or your parents, or school, or even _me_. This is all about _you_."

"Stop!" I sobbed again, still uselessly thrashing my balled fists against his hard chest. "I hate you so, so much! I can't tell you how much I absolutely despise you! you are the most aggravating, infuriating, exasperating, positively _obnoxious_, back-stabbing-" I could have gone on forever with the list of adjectives describing Edward Cullen, had it not been for one little _tiny_ interruption.

He kissed me.

Immediately, I forgot everything that I had been about to say. There was nothing, in that moment, that was going through my head. Nada. Zero. There were just the shooting fireworks, the wonderful pulses of pure electricity going through my body, and the strange, blinding light that seemed to be emanating from somewhere deep within me. The rain suddenly stopped. In fact, the entire world stopped. It was just me and Edward.

My lips attacked his hungrily, like a man who has been put in front of a feast after being starved for the entirety of his life. My hands were roaming his beautiful face, memorizing every single perfect feature, every line and curve on his skin. He seemed to be doing the same to me, his gentle hands, rough from three long years in the military, were caressing my face like it was the most delicate china in the world.

I could do nothing but kiss Edward forever and still die a happy woman. His lips, though cold and wet from the icy rain, were soft and electrifying against my own, and for what seemed like hours we just stood there, attacking each other, our lips fighting for dominance. "Bella," he said, gasping in between kisses. "Bella, Bella, Bella. I didn't mean a thing that I said. You are the most caring, honest, unselfish, wonderful woman I have ever met in my life." Whenever I had to pause for air, he would leave a fiery trail of kisses down my neck, whispering my name at each interval.

"Oh, Edward," I murmured, burying my head into his neck. He responded by swiftly grabbing the back of my knees in each hand, lifting me so that my legs interlocked behind his back. I pressed my body as close as I could, trying to block out the rain that was still pouring down on us.

This, of course, did not not escape Edward's notice. A horrified expression overtook his face, and he said, "Oh God, Bella, you're freezing. Why didn't you say something? Here," he immediately began to shrug out of his thick, long-sleeved shirt; apparently he had had left his jacket in the pub.

At first, I refused to take it. He'd be colder than I'd ever be, as he had no other clothing to cover his chest. But he was adamant about this, and when worst comes to worst, who was I to refuse a shirtless Edward? Many times I had imagined it; I mean, who wouldn't? Don't act like you have no idea what I'm talking about.

And, believe me, a hundred fantasies combined could never compare to the real thing. The moment I pulled my arms through the sleeves, I couldn't keep my hands...ahem, or lips off of him. We were just a mess of heated kisses and feverish caresses. As my hands knotted into his glorious hair- something I'd imagined myself doing since the day I met him- his own fingers ran a constant trail up and down my thighs, which were still locked around his waist, and leaving fiery tingles in their path. In fact, my entire _being_ seemed to be alight with flame, and any skin that wasn't being touched by him seemed cold and empty.

But the strange thing was that the empty, broken feeling that I had been experiencing for almost the entire day? It was gone. Instead of the shattered pieces I had felt so clearly in the hallow of my chest, I fell whole. Complete. Like I had been missing a huge piece if myself for my whole life, and it hadn't been filled or even discovered until this very moment.

And, having this epiphany of sorts, I decided that it didn't matter. Nothing mattered. For that instant, I couldn't care less about Lauren Mallory and her beautiful blonde hair, or if I would spend the rest of my life holed up in this small town, or if Mr. Sentry wouldn't budge from the highest, mot ridiculous price he could offer. I didn't care whether or not my family considered me a nuisance, or if this horrifying war would end, or even if I would ever be considered more important than a job. It was just me and Edward, kissing in the rain.

And it was pure, utter, _bliss_.

.....................................................

"Edward?" I asked, lazily running one of my hands through his perfect auburn locks.

He smiled from his casual spot beside me, my question momentarily having distracted him from drawing swirly invisible patterns on the skin of my neck. "Yes?" He seemed so perfect, lying there on the cushions beside me, so peaceful, that I almost decided not to ask the question that had been lingering in my mind ever since we got back to my house.

After the ecstasy that had come so wonderfully, yet so unconventionally, outside in the middle of the street, Edward had the brilliant thought that I might catch a cold if we stayed out there too long. Him, being the gentleman that he is, offered to carry me home (an offer which, needless to say, I politely declined). So we walked together all the way back to my house, holding hands in the pouring rain, and me just basking in the irrevocable love I felt for him.

After about half a knock, my mother had thrown open the door with so much gusto that Edward had to hold on to me tightly just to keep me standing in place. She went off on me immediately, saying things like "Isabella Marie Swan, how dare you scare me so much?", and, "It's almost eleven o'clock at night, and it's thundering out!", and, "Do you have any idea how scared your father and I have been?". This went on for about five whole minute before she finally even acknowledged Edward's sopping wet presence.

Of course, she did in that moment what Swan women did best: blush. She apologized to the Lieutenant General profusely for her "less than appropriate behavior", and hoped that he would stay and make himself comfortable with new, dry clothes and a cup of coffee. He gladly obliged, and left me to go get changed while my mother eagerly took care of him.

Now, I lay with him on our couch, and every so often I would let out a completely uncontrollable giggle, a product of my overflowing happiness. Happiness that I hoped to the good Lord in Heaven would not disintegrate when I asked him my question. "If you don't mind telling me, why _were_ you with Lauren?"

For a moment, his smile dropped, and his expression darkened. But I didn't have time to worry or become upset, because in a split second, that same crooked grin was back with a roll of his gorgeous eyes. "Don't even get me started," he breathed, and leaned in to kiss my chin. His lips lingered there, and when I didn't respond, he took it as me not accepting his answer as a complete one. "Alright," he sighed, and said, "She thought that she could convince me to be with her one last time. She was telling me that I was too high-strung, that I should loosen up, and that she made _sure_ she looked pretty tonight just for me." He rolled his eyes again. "Pretty," he scoffed, shaking his head.

I narrowed my eyes, feeling my heart clench involuntarily. "Oh," I whispered, and ducked my head into his chest in hopes that he wouldn't see my embarrassment.

Unfortunately, he noticed. "Bella," he murmured. When I didn't look at him, he said, "Bella, look at me." I felt his fingers hook under my chin and gently push upwards, making sure that I had no choice _but_ to look at him. "Bella, you are the most divine woman I have ever met. Five thousand, no, five _million_ Lauren Mallorys couldn't compare to an ounce of your beauty."

I blushed, but knew that arguing with him would get me nowhere.

Just then, I heard my mother calling me, followed by the sounds of her footsteps as she made her way toward the living room. I bolted upwards, not wanting to explain the indecent position we had been lying in. Thankfully, Edward caught my drift, and shifted into a sitting position at the other end of the couch just as my mother walked into the room, Bethany in tow. Though no matter how discreetly I tried to pry my hand from his, he just smirked and held it tighter.

Beth's eyes widened to the size of saucers the moment she laid eyes on Edward, and then even wider once she saw our interlocked fingers. She raised her eyebrows at me, as if saying, _"Are you serious?"_

My mother, though, couldn't be happier at the sight. "Are you okay General Cullen? Can I get you anything?"

Edward smiled his wonderful, charming smile, and I swear I could almost hear Bethany gasping. "No ma'am, thank you very much. And, please, call me Edward." He turned to me. "It's getting pretty late, Bella. I should probably go..." I felt my heart fall at the words, and was about to protest when my mother beat me to it.

"Nonsense!" My mother cried. "I am not letting you go out in this weather! You'll kill yourself. Please, Edward, stay. I'm sure Bella would be more than willing to give up her bed for one night..." She raised her eyebrows at me, and I nodded fiercely. Anything to make him stay with me.

"Well, I don't know..." he said, but I could hear his voice wavering.

"Please, Edward?" Bethany spoke for the first time tonight, her voice surprisingly strong and clear. "It would mean a lot to us."

"_Please, Edward__?_" I breathed, repeating my sister's words in what I hoped was an alluring tone into his ear. With one hand, I was twirling a single lock of his delicious hair, and with a quick, invisible movement, I touched the tip of my tongue to his jaw.

Okay, so maybe it was a bit unfair on my part, but it was working. He suddenly drew in a breath, but composed himself. "Well, now, I wouldn't want to disappoint such wonderful women, now would I?" I grinned and hugged him. I was in love with the most wonderful man in the world, and you know what?

I think he might love me too.

* * *

**You guys are so lucky. This is a once-in-forever experience with me. Two chapters in less than forty eight hours? You should be in shock. Anyway, I hope this one melted your hearts when reading it as much as it did mine when I was writing it. More fluff PROMISED for the next day in the story.**

**If you love kissing in the rain and a shirtless Edward, review!  
**


	13. Chores

**As always, guys, thanks for the reviews :)**

**But I think I need to clear something up. I got tons of reviews asking why Edward was being so mean, calling her all of these things like "selfish", "uncaring", and yadda yadda. Apparently, it seemed like he was being totally OOC, and then like he was **_**lying**_** when he told Bella he didn't mean it.**

**To be honest, I was completely shocked by this. I guess it plays out in my head when I'm actually writing it completely different than how it comes out when reading it. Edward and Bella were having a much heated, intense couple-y fight. She said things she didn't mean, but when Edward was trying to talk to her, she wouldn't listen. So he had to do the one thing Edward always seems to friggin' result to when he's trying to convince Bella: lie (I mean, come on, remember New Moon?). I didn't mean for anything he said to be fake or superficial to you guys **_**or**_** her; he was sincerely apologizing for what he had to do to get her to talk to him. It totally came across in the wrong way, and I'm sorry.**

**Just had to clear that up, and anyway, on with the chapter!**

* * *

I woke up the next morning to the sound of my mother's voice.

"Bella! Bella, you sleepyhead, get your butt down here! You have chores to do!" Amongst her voice, I could hear commotion downstairs; people were walking, something was sizzling in a pan, my sister was squealing and shouting something about at the twins.

I groaned and shut my eyes tighter, trying to convince myself that she wouldn't mind if I got just five more minutes of sleep. This thought, of course, quickly vanished as she called to me again. "And I mean _now_! I know you're laying up their thinking about ignoring me!" Even through my irascible haze of interrupted sleep, I almost smiled at the fact that she knew me so well.

But I decided that she was probably right. It was a Sunday, and that meant a whole bush load of chores before finally attending a mid-afternoon mass at the only small chapel in our town. I yawned, stretched, and relaxed again for a final time, running over the things on my to-do list today and any events that might affect them. _Let's see,_ I thought. _Milk the cow, feed the chickens, and ugh, the pig pen is probably flooded from the rain last night..._

_Wait a minute._

Rain. Edward.

EDWARD!

I let out shriek and threw myself off the bed. Well, I tried, but my body had become entangled in the bed sheets, a result of my restless sleep the previous night. I landed on the floor with a loud thud, and immediately all noise coming from downstairs stopped. My cheeks burned, even though I wasn't in the presence of anybody, and I could faintly hear someone, a deep male voice, chuckle from the room below me.

Thankfully, I was used to this sort of stuff happening in my everyday life, and I recovered quickly. I stood up, meticulously untangled myself from the evil white linens, and headed over to my bureau. Hell, you're crazy if you thought I was just going to waltz downstairs with the possibility in mind that Edward could very likely be seeing the rat's nest that is my hair in the morning.

And I'd be damned if there was any kissing at all with the risk of morning breath hazardously heavy in the air.

Kissing Edward...I couldn't help but let out a giddy fit of giggles as the thoughts of last night's events sailed through my head. Last night's incredible, magnificent, glorious, _sensational_ events...I grinned at myself in the mirror, amazed that the bright-eyed, blushing, happy girl on the other side of the glass was _me_. Bella Swan.

Okay, so the blushing part wasn't that hard to believe.

I rolled my eyes at myself and shook my head. I amazed myself sometimes with the complete nonchalance I faced when insulting myself. And yet, even with the sarcastically negative comment I was currently directing towards myself, my lighthearted, sunny attitude didn't deflate a bit. I was going to see Edward.

But then, of course, Annoying Realistic Bella decided to come and knock Radiant Happy Bella out of the ring.

What if he wasn't here? What if he left in the middle of the night, or early this morning, deciding that everything had come much to quickly last night? What if he had just been humoring me when he said he wanted to stay the night? What if he really didn't want to stay? The barrage of questions hit me with dread, and suddenly my stomach was in knots, heavy with the mere thought of Edward being forced to be with me against his will.

Biting my lip, I slowly stood up from my chair, ran my fingers through my hair one last time, and made my way out of my room and to the stairs, stopping my movement abruptly as I considered my options. Option One, I could just tell my mother I was sick and just stay in bed all day, avoiding the confrontation with Edward, stalling as I always did when I was nervous or scared.

No. That wouldn't work at all. Sunday Chores were and had always been a pretty big deal for my mother, as it "strengthened our character" and "prepared us for when we had to be parents" later in life. Besides, how would I ever fake the so-called "sickness" that was my excuse in the first place? I was a horrible liar, and my acting was even worse. So that was definitely out.

Option Two: Go downstairs with my head held high, and tell Edward that I liked him, but everything had happened too fast last night and now everything was awkward. He would agree with me, and we would politely acquiesce to the idea that we would take it slow, and start out as friends before developing an extensive romantic relationship.

Of course, it didn't take long to immediately eliminate that alternative. It was too late, at least on my part; I was in too deep already. There was absolutely no way that I was going to say goodbye now that I had realized that I loved him. And you know, maybe it was a little selfish, but I didn't care. And anyway, that went along the lines of lying, didn't it? So obviously, no Option Two.

And then there was Option Three: Suck it up and go face him.

I sighed, realizing that this was clearly the only choice I had at this point. I mean, it was now or never, and _"__never"_ didn't really work for me. So I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and slowly, carefully, started down the old, carpeted stairs. I was preparing for the worst: Edward standing there, waiting for me, a grimace on his face as my father interrogated him, or Edward being bombarded by the chaos that was my twin brothers, or even Edward not there at all.

I was prepared for anything but the image I actually ended up seeing.

There, sitting on my house's dingy old living room floor, Edward was laughing, a carefree grin on his face as he watched my tiniest sister, Lily, position her seven favorite dolls in various poses and postures. As I continued to watch, I could hear her scrupulously explaining the concept of her game, which apparently consisted of several beautiful women, quite a few handsome princes, a cluster or two of pretty little kittens, and tons of hippopotamuses (for some strange reason that none of us could comprehend, Lily had somehow acquired an inexplicable obsession with hippos when she was two years old).

But the thing I couldn't tear my eyes away from was Edward's face. He looked so comfortable, so blithe and airy, that I almost had a difficult time recognizing him, especially after his so seriously grave expression the day before. There was no trace of that grimness now; his emerald eyes, so beautiful by themselves, were gleaming and happy, so much that I instantly felt sublime the second I caught sight of them.

I was so in shock at his relaxed attitude that I practically jumped when he called me. "Oh!" I blushed. "Um, hey. What are you up to?"

He grinned and waved me over. "Lily was just showing me how to play her game. What's it called again?" He glanced at the tiny pig-tailed girl, who scrunched her nose and leaned up to whisper something in his ear. "Ah," he said, shaking his head. "How could I forget? It's called _The Most Amazing Beautiful Princess Hippo Gets Married to the Most Handsome Prince Hippo in the World_. I'm having a little trouble though. Lily has to keep explaining the rules to me. Maybe you should come over and help me." He winked at me, nearly sending me into a heart attack.

When I was able to recover, though, I nodded and went over to them, plopping down beside Lily as she was describing the time and place where Mr. and Mrs. Hippo would be getting married. "And their would be lots of hippo daisies and hippo pansies and hippo daffodils and bunches of baby kittens dressed up as hippos." She nodded, seeming pleased with herself.

Edward smirked, looking at me. "Am I sensing a theme here?"

I returned his smile, shaking my head. "We don't understand it at all. She just kind of woke up one day and said-" but I didn't get to finish, because at that moment Leo and Theo, the fourteen-year-old catastrophes bursted into the room.

"Are you a real soldier?"

"Have you been in Germany?"

"Do you have a gun?"

"Can I see it?"

"Hey, I asked first!" At that point, a minor wrestling match had broken out.

"Boys! What are you doing to the poor man?" I heard my mother's footsteps as she started into the room, followed by the image of her with her hands on her hips standing in the doorway. She turned to Edward, who was trying to conceal a smile. "Are they bothering you? Just say the word and I can have them out of your hair for the rest of the day."

He laughed. "No ma'am. They're fine. Probably just curious."

My mother rolled her eyes. "Curious my foot." But she turned around anyway, and with one more glare in the twins' direction, she exited the room, muttering a string of curses in a tone so low none of us had a hope of hearing.

Leo and Theo were quiet for a moment (probably listening to see if my mother was out of earshot). They glanced at each other, grinned the menacing, chip-toothed grin only they could produced, and ran over to Edward, pouncing on him.

I'll admit, at first I was pretty worried for him. My father, especially in his recent years, had suffered several bad backs and strained necks; a product of these impromptu scuffles that the boys, for some reason, thoroughly enjoyed initiating. But Edward didn't flinch, and just as Theo and Leo ran into an arms-length distance from him, he grabbed their shoulders, span them around, and did this weird cross-y thing with their arms. It was hard to follow, but all I know is that they somehow ended up back-to-back, their arms entangled in one big jumble, Edward grinning.

I stared, open-mouthed, as he looked toward me and winked. "W-Where did you learn to do that?"

He shrugged. "Three years in the military teaches you a lot of things." He turned to the boys, who were struggling to get out of their cluttered predicament. "Oh, sorry. Here, you guys will probably need help getting out of that." He gently started to untangle their arms, and finally they were free.

They looked at each other once, perfectly serious, until they broke out into full-out ear to ear grins, and cried, "Cool!" And they ran from the room.

I rolled my eyes. "You are unbelievable."

"In a good way or bad way?" He was smirking that damn crooked smile of his.

I really did know what I was going to say. Really. It was just that beautiful grin, those gorgeous lips, and I soon found myself so distracted that there was nothing going through my mind except the wish that I was kissing him. "Um...you tell me..." I bit my lip, the image of last night running through my brain.

Instead of answering me, Edward stood up from his spot on the floor, sauntering over to me at a painfully slow pace. For the first time, I noticed that he wasn't wearing his uniform. Instead, he had donned a simple pair of pants and a flannel shirt (most likely borrowed from my father), which somehow made him all the more handsome. When he finally got to me, he wrapped his strong arms around my waist, pulling me to his chest. His lips hovered over mine for a moment, unmoving, as if he was asking my permission.

He didn't have to wait very long. I stood on my tiptoes, closing the annoying distance between us quickly.

Something, a small doubt in my mind, had been wondering if his second or third or fourth kiss would ever be able to compare to his first. This small part of me questioned the reality, scrutinized the possibility of those following kisses, and how they could, under any circumstance, ever resemble the first moment shared between us, and up until now, I had no idea what to expect. So I guess you can say I was surprised to find that our second kiss, mine and Edward's, was nothing like the first.

It was even better.

The kiss started off slow and sensual, with his hands rubbing small circles in my hips and my own fingers running through his hair. His lips, soft and gentle, were massaging mine, and I felt, at least for the most part, in control of my apparently raging hormones. That was, until I felt his tongue.

It was only the tip, and I felt it against my bottom lip, warm and sweet and positively delicious. Feeling it there, I went crazy. I crashed my lips to his with even more force and intensity, pressing my body against his fervently. He was surprised for a moment, I think, but soon he reacted, and I could feel his hands rubbing my hips with even more fervency. They traveled lower, onto my thigh, and he hoisted my leg so that it was hooked around his waist. We didn't stop to breathe, and soon I was feeling more than a little bit lightheaded.

Thankfully, Edward noticed, and he broke away from our heated kiss, stopping only to press smaller, more tender ones to my neck. I sighed, my breathing finally slowing to deep, steady breaths. I inhaled his wonderful aroma, rich with the scent that was positively Edward. "Mmm..." I murmured. "Definitely a good way."

He let out a breathy chuckle, tickling my neck. "Well, I'm glad."

I grinned, and then pried myself from him. "Enough funny business, lover man, I have chores to do."

* * *

About half an hour later, I had changed into a worn pair of overall slacks and a white cotton shirt; my basic "farm girl" uniform. Yes, over the years I had acquired much teasing and ridicule over the years (especially from Alice, the fashion phenomenon). Even my little sisters had made fun of my braided-country-girl demeanor, that is, until _they_ were forced to wear the more practical attire themselves.

Although I had eventually grown accustomed to the unbearably cliché outfit over the years, and had developed I couldn't help but blush like a tomato as Edward's eyes appraised me, raking up and down my figure. As they roamed from the worn cuffs to the scratched silver buttons, he chuckled, finally looking up to meet my eyes. Wicked humor danced in those green irises, and I wanted to slap him.

"What?" I demanded meekly, self-consciously pulling at the edge of the pant leg, which ended just above my calf. I exhaled roughly. "Okay, I know I look pretty stupid. But it's not my idea, you know that right? I'm practically forced to wear this, I swear; my mom says that she would hate to have me dirty my other clothes and-"

He grinned, cutting me off "Actually, I don't think you look pretty stupid at all. Pretty adorable, maybe, but not stupid."

Trying to hide my smile, I said, "Well, in that case, thanks. You look reasonably cute yourself, Mister Farmboy."

And, for the first time since I've met him, Edward did something I never thought he would ever do: Edward blushed. Ducking his head, his cheeks reddened, and he looked younger than I had ever seen him. No longer was he General Cullen, stern leader in the U.S Military, but Edward, the nineteen year old boy. "Didn't you say you had chores to do?" He asked, furrowing his brow.

I giggled. "Of course. Follow me." I grabbed his hand and started walking, dragging him with me as I quickly decided what I would get done first.

After a brief consideration, I opted to go to the barn first, where Minnie was waiting to be milked. It was also the closest place to where we had been standing, and the most practical (Minnie was always anxious to get the milking over with; she didn't take kindly to worrying about it the entire day). And, quite honestly, I was a bit perturbed for Edward. Even cows, especially ours, could get cranky in the morning, and the fact that he was a stranger was even worse.

As we approached the barn doors, I knocked quietly, as if knocking on a sleeping child's room. "Minnie?" I called. "Minnie, we're coming in. I have a new friend with me." I talked softly, trying not to disturb the moody cow.

Meanwhile, Edward was looking at me like I'd completely lost my marbles. "Are you talking to a-" But I silenced him by slapping my hand to his lips, and I nodded. Yes Edward. Yes, I was talking to a cow.

I opened the barn door extremely slowly, wincing at the loud creak it made as it inched its way open. I decided that stopping would only prolong the calamity that was yet to come, and led Edward, who still had an immensely confused expression on his face, into the room, where the she-devil stood, waiting with an evil glare in her beady black eyes. I shuddered, thanking the good Lord that I was not Edward Cullen right now.

After an intense staring contest, he turned to me. "I am _not_ touching that thing."

I laughed, my frightened disposition immediately subsiding. "And why not? It's just a cow. Nothing to be afraid of."

He shook his head. "That is not a cow. That, Bella, is the reincarnation of Satan."

I rolled my eyes and walked around him, picking up the bucket we kept in the barn to collect milk. "Quit being such a drama queen, Mr. Lieutenant General. I thought they were supposed to make you guys tough up there," I said, shaking my head as I sat down on the chair, right in back of Minnie's hind legs. I gave her utters a few squeezes, resulting in a couple squirts of milk landing in the tin bucket. "See? Now, come on, you try it."

I could see that he was still dubious, but he took the seat from me anyway. I heard him mutter a couple strings of curses (ah, this was where that military general was hiding) as he slowly, cautiously, reached his hands towards Minnie's utters. The cow stayed perfectly still, her tail, which was directly in front of us, swishing occasionally to the side. Edward took this as a confirmation, an acceptance for him to touch her, and proceeded to grab the utter firmly, grinning as if he had achieved an award.

But then, of course, Minnie decided to kick him.

Hard.

Her hoof hit him square in the chest, knocking him off balance and onto the floor. The pail, which had been filled a bit by the few previous squeezes I had managed to get out of her, also knocked over and spilled all over him, causing Minnie to break out in a "moo" of pure, evil delight. "GODDAMN YOU COW!" Edward shouted angrily, his jaw tight. I rushed over to his side, biting my lip.

"Are you okay?" I asked, frantically unbuttoning his shirt to inspect any possible damage. Of course, I _was_ momentarily distracted the moment I laid eyes on his chiseled chest, but then again, who could blame me? It's not my fault he was extremely gorgeous and, well, _extremely_ in shape. _Snap out of it Bella_, my mind warned.

After I was able to regain my consciousness in the real world, I resumed my examination, looking for any signs of bruised or cut skin. I found none, but it couldn't hurt to ask. "Edward? Edward, are you okay."

For a moment, he just looked at me. Finally, after a few seconds of silence, he said, "No, actually, I'm not."

My eyebrows furrowed. He looked okay to me. "Oh? Well, where does it hurt? I can get some ice..."

Edward pointed to a spot to the left of his chest, just under his collar bone. "Right here hurts pretty bad. And," he shook his head. "No, I don't think ice will help. Maybe if you kiss it, though, there might be a chance that I'll recover. If not, I guess I'll just lay here and suffer. But if you leave me, it will probably be a very long time before I recover. Months, most likely. Maybe even years."

Oh. So that's what he was getting on.

I mentally shrugged, deciding that I'd just go along with it. Smiling, I said, "Oh, well now. We wouldn't you to endure such a distressing pain for such a horribly long time, would we?" He shook his head vehemently, and I had to fight back a giggle. So I leaned in and softly pressed my lips to his beautiful skin, letting them linger for a moment on the velvety surface before raising my head. "All better?" I asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Well, I suppose, but there is another place that's hurting..." He sighed dramatically.

"Oh?" I slowly bent down, resuming my position near his chest. "Is it here?" I placed a delicate kiss in the center. Venturing further up, nearing his neck, I dragged my bottom lip, leaving a wet trail as I did so. "Is it here?" I murmured against his throat, and continued up, trailing along his jawline. "Is it here?" I whispered at the edge of his ear, so close to him that my teeth grazed his earlobe.

Suddenly, he grasped my chin, bringing his face to mine. "No," he said. "It's here." And he crushed his lips to mine.

I immediately felt the fireworks bursting, the insanely bright lights flashing through my mind as the pure electricity coursed between our lips. Squealing, I couldn't help but giggle in delight against Edward's lips as I felt him lift my hips into the air, placing me back down so that I was straddling his lap. I of course, took this new position with great appreciation, as I now had the complete capability to do whatever I wanted.

As I massaged his firm jaw with one hand, the other running through his hair, Edward was fervently tracing every inch of my body with his brilliant fingers. My waist, my hips, my thighs; everywhere he touched was instantly alighted with fire. It was a flame that, even knowing and having been with as few men as I have, only Edward could bring to my being. As his hands applied a wonderful pressure to the small of my back, I couldn't help the small moan that escaped my mouth.

"Bella, Mom wanted me to just-OH MY GOD!" Beth flung her hands to cover her eyes, thus dropping the basket of bread she had been carrying.

I couldn't help it. I screamed, jumping off Edward immediately. Frantically, I tried to straighten out my disheveled hair and clothes, and I noticed Edward doing the same. "Um, hey, Beth. How are you doing?" I bit my lip, hoping that my sister wasn't too mentally scarred for life.

But the damage had already been done. One by one, Beth unclipped her fingers from the tight clasp that covered her eyes, as if slowly preparing herself for the most mentally damaging experience she had ever laid eyes on. "Oh, thank God," she said, once she saw that we were finally decent. "I never want to see that image again."

Blushing furiously, I glared at her. "Just tell me what you came here for, Bethany."

She held her hands up in the air. "Hey, not my fault you're getting down and dirty with the soldier guy when you're supposed to be doing you're chores." She stopped to give me a pointed look before continuing. "Whatever. Anyway, Mom just wanted me to give you this basket to deliver to Madame Augustine. She said she'd have me do it, but doesn't want me to leave Lilly alone. My day to watch her, you know?" She rolled her eyes.

Beth hated that job. She just, in her words, 'wasn't cut out for watching little children', and Lilly, at least to my sister, was the epitome of an annoying child. "Oh," she added. "Mom says that if you do this for her, you only have to take Roberta out for a run later, and that everything else is covered."

I nodded, processing this information, as Beth looked down at the bread, which had scattered all over the floor. "Well, it _was_ a basket," she said, shaking her head, and bent down, grumbling, as she started to pick the pieces up. Edward, being the gentleman that he is, rushed over to help her.

"Gee, thanks, um..." She didn't know what to call him, exactly.

He grinned crookedly. "Call me Edward, please."

I giggled at my sister's stupefied state, recognizing what my own features probably resembled the first time I'd met Edward, and then sighed. He was just too damn gorgeous for his own good. Taking Edward's hand into my own, I smiled. "Thanks, Beth. Really."

She nodded dumbly. "Sure...whatever..."

Edward tried to suppress his chuckle as we watched her turn around slowly, as if in a trance, and walk out the door; all the time having that same glazed, misty look that took over her expression. I shook my head at the sight, turning to him. "You _really_ have to stop doing that."

"Doing what?" He still had that damn smirk on his face.

I let out a frustrated breath. "You know exactly what I mean, Mr. Dazzle." I grabbed the bread basket, which Beth had given to Edward for him to hold, and started making my way out of the barn, going through the necessary precautions that, over the years of repeatedly doing them, had just blended into my brain. Close the door firmly, lock the huge metal piece of junk, give the wood one last shove...it all came without much mental effort.

Meanwhile, Edward wore an innocent, confused expression. "Mr..._Dazzle_?"

It was a beautiful day out. The sun was high in the sky, making the cool November air seem less chilly. The wind wasn't even that bad, either, I realized with glee. It was the polar opposite of yesterday evening, I thought, and shuddered as I recalled the practically glacial weather conditions as I had spent my time running through the streets.

I nodded, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world. "Yes. Don't play stupid, Edward. You must know about that thing you do. You know, that glaring sparkle thing? It blinds women so that they're just a puddle of mush in your hands. Don't touch that." I slapped his hand off of the side of the chicken coop. "Mary Louise bites, you know."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he said, almost indignantly. I'm pretty sure he wasn't talking about Mary Louise.

I sighed, realizing that I wouldn't win this argument. "Fine. But I still stand that you purposely manipulate pretty girls just so you can get what you want." Just as he was about to respond, I cut him off. "Look, we're here."

The Madame, or Adrienne Augustine, was our extremely old, extremely cheerful neighbor. She immigrated here straight from France in 1912, with her husband, Emile, who had died about seven years ago. I had never known him truly, as I was young at the time, but Madame never ceased to talk about how wonderful and loving he was. And, coming from such a kind old woman as her, I couldn't help but believe it.

It made me sad, at times, to think that she was living in this big house all by herself, and so I tried to make my visits often. I loved talking to her; she had the most marvelous stories to tell. During good times, especially in the summer, I would drop by daily and drink iced tea and eat buttered bread with her, or look on as she flipped through old photo albums that captured her younger years in Marseilles.

Many were of her and her previous best friends, all of them laughing wildly as their scarves and hair and floral skirts flowed in the sea breeze, their feet curled into the wet sand as waves splashed against the back of their legs. Some were of her parents, boasting proudly as she achieved an award for horseback riding, or of her younger brother laughing hysterically as she screamed at the fake spider he had previously placed in her laundry basket.

The most interesting, however, were of her and Emile, when they had first met in the bustling, lively streets of France. She was seventeen, him nineteen, and it was, apparently, love at first sight. She had been so beautiful in her fine French dresses, him stunningly handsome as he grinned in every single picture. It made my heart lurch to see them, so brilliantly happy, so unbelievably blissful, and how it had left Madame so alone, dwelling on memories of the past.

I smiled sadly as I walked up the old stone steps, motioning for Edward to follow me.

It only took three knocks for Madame to come bustling to the doorway. "Oh! Is that my beautiful Isabella! It feels as though it's been ages since I've laid eyes on you!" She smiled widely, the corners of her remarkably youthful bright blue eyes crinkling in joy. "You look wonderful, as always, but there is something different. I sense it." She pursed her lips, as if thinking for a moment.

I interjected, grinning as I handed the basket to her. "Here, Madame, from my mother. Bread for you."

She smiled kindly, shaking her head. "That woman does too much for me, you know. I've always told her that. Oh well, come inside! It's chilly out there, and I have tea on the oven!" I followed her inside the old home, dragging Edward (whom she had yet to notice) along with me.

As we got into her kitchen, I said, "Madame, I have someone I want you to meet." I bit my lip, stepping aside so that Edward could come front. "This is Edward Cullen. He's my..." I trailed off, not knowing what exactly to call him.

And truthfully, what was he? We were certainly more than friends; there was no doubt in my mind about that. But could I just simply call him my beau? Our relationship seemed so much deeper, so much more complex than a silly little "boyfriend". I sighed frustratedly; this was exactly where I always went back to.

Thankfully, though, Edward stepped in, holding out his hand to the old woman. "Nice to meet you, Ma'am."

For a moment, Madame just stared at him, a scrutinizing look in her wise blue eyes. I assumed, for a painstakingly long second, that she was upset, angry that I had brought a complete and total stranger, a man whom she had never met, into her home. But I had no more time to panic, because instead of shaking his hand or even uttering a half-hearted greeting, she wrapped him in a bone crushing hug. She whispered something in his ear, and even though it was quiet enough to hear her, I couldn't understand the foreign words.

Edward did, though, because instantly his face softened and he pulled back only to look her deeply in the eye. "Thank you," he murmured, in what I guessed was a reply to her soft, almost inaudible message.

I wanted to ask what she had said, but held my tongue. That would be for later.

We stayed at the Madame's for almost an hour, and probably would have stayed longer if it hadn't been for the time constraint that I was currently under. I excused us politely, and she made us promise to visit her again another time; a wish I couldn't possibly refuse.

She had positively adored Edward. On and on, she couldn't stop telling us how he was exactly like her beloved Emile, and how he reminded her so much of her youth. I couldn't help but smile as I remembered her taking me aside one moment, while Edward was looking at a series of old picture frames, and telling me not to let him go. _He's a special one_, she had told me earnestly._ Don't let him slip through your fingers._

Recalling this, I took Edward's hand in my own, squeezing it tightly. It was almost as if I was taking her kind advice in the literal sense, but I didn't care. I just held on more firmly as we walked away from her ancient yard.

He smiled down at me. "That was nice, thank you," he said.

I shook my head. "No, thank you. You have no idea how wonderful it is for me to see her so happy; believe me, it's hard for her to live all on her own like that, no matter how much she tries to hide it. It worries me sometimes." I sighed.

"She cares for you greatly. You know that, right?" He stopped us, taking both of my hands into his as he gazed deeply into my eyes, those piercing green orbs melting intensely into my own. I really could get lost in his eyes, I thought absent-mindedly.

Nodding, I said, "I know. And I care for her. A lot. That's why I worry for her." I pursed my lips, thinking, when suddenly I remembered what had puzzled me earlier. "Hey, what did she say to you back there, when your first met her? It sounded something like 'Ehnfin, vooze-ate venue. Or something. I don't know; I couldn't understand," I said, smiling sheepishly.

His features softened, the way that they had before. "It's French," he said. "_Enfin, vous etes venu_."

I nodded, as if this all made perfect sense to me. "Ah," I said, sarcasm dripping from my tone. "And that explains everything to me." I rolled my eyes at him, laying my head against his chest. He responded by wrapping his arms around my back, pulling me close to him. He leaned down, putting his lips to my ear.

"It means 'Finally, you've come."

* * *

**There you go, my chickadees! Longest. Chapter. Yet. I hope you like it, because I am frankly extremely satisfied with the fluff in this chapter. Isn't it so sweet? Bella was all worried and anxious that Edward had reconsidered his feelings for her, and she wakes up to find him accepting and being accepted by her family! Don't worry, the cuteness does not end here. More wonderful sugar-coated awesometasticness in the next chapter.**

**Review if you like heated kisses and barnyard blunders!**


	14. Horses

**Hello, my lovelies.**

**Haha, I'd like to dedicate this chapter to a very special reviewer last chapter, even though it was left without a registered account. This is to Nora****, who left the following review: _"This story is really good. WHEN ARE THEY GOING TO HAVE SEX? IT'S RATED M, RIGHT?"_**** You are just plain awesome. Get right to the point, very amazing.**

** I'd also like to thank those of you who ARE reading and reviewing, because it positively makes my day :] So, on with the story, because I really hope this next part will be better than the last (apparently last chapter was a dud; it only got a third of the reviews the chapter before it had)! And in this one, we're gettin' more than a little hot and bothered (this is for my lovely Nora)! YAY! So if you're uncomfortable with some pretty heavy adult themes or whatnot, just kinda skip over the parts you don't like. **

**And yes, this IS a WARNING: we come close to some lemons in this chappie.**

* * *

_"Revenge is sweeter than life itself...  
So think fools."  
-Decimus Junius Juvenal-_

Mystery Character POV **(ooh la la)**

This was just plain ridiculous.

I watched from my hidden perch behind the bush next to the Swan residence as the brown-eyed, smiling, overall-clad girl laughed alongside the bronze-haired soldier, the two of them giggling like lovers on their honeymoon. He was holding her in his arms, like she was a baby in a cradle, and they were staring into each others eyes in such a gooey way that made me want to gag.

"Ugh!" I shrieked, ripping a vine off of their black chokeberry shrub. "Stupid, stupid, _stupid_!"

The girl looked in my direction, confusion evident in her expression. Immediately, I slapped my hand over my mouth, ceasing all noise. Thankfully, after a moment of staring into nothing she shrugged, turning back to her lover.

How _dare_ she? That goddamn ignorant, stupid, _insolent_ Bella Swan thought she was on top of the world, didn't she? That she was the best of the best, the first in the food chain? Just because she got some new, shiny, little boy toy, she was suddenly the mightiest woman in the universe. Well, I'll tell her what: there was only room for _one_ Queen Bee in this town, and- here's a hint, Miss Bell_-ah_ -it was most definitely _not_ her.

I wanted her off that pedestal. And _now_.

But how to do it? Quickly, I wracked my brain through the various plans and strategies, sorting through the possibilities one evil scheme at a time. Some were promising, and quite devilish of me of course, but most were just duds. There were the constant complications that came up, always the drawbacks that would surely intervene at the precise moment, and all probably resulting in just a higher elevation for the oh-so-wonderful Cinderella.

I contemplated the unoriginal "Set-Her-Up-To-Look-Like-She's-Cheating", but immediately shot that one down. After all, who would believe that Miss Goody-Two-Shoes would two-time her beau (besides that even, who would _want_ to cheat on that piece of pie)? And vice-versa would be even _more_ far fetched; he would surely be able to convince her of his falsely set up affair.

Then there was always getting Edward himself to break up with her...but that would take way too much time than I had. I would have to go to the trouble of persuading him to actually talk to me alone, and then I would have to convince him that Bella wasn't right for him (which would be entirely too difficult, judging by the stupid look in his eyes whenever he was with her).

I huffed. Clearly, this would take even more consideration than I anticipated. They were too happy together

But then suddenly, in a moment of clear understanding, a _second_ of pure comprehension, I got it: the perfect plan of demise for the beautiful, yet doomed Isabella Swan and her handsome lover-soldier. It was flawless; nothing about it could actually go wrong.

I hurriedly rummaged through my messy drawers, digging up a piece of paper and a fountain pen.

............................................

"Have you ever ridden a horse before?"

My sudden question, shocking in the midst of the concentrated silence we had been walking in, made Edward look up at me, surprise coloring his perfect features. "A horse?" he asked, his eyebrows furrowing just a bit as he spoke.

I nodded. "Yes, a horse. You know, the four-legged mammal that goes 'neigh'?"

I tried not to giggle as he gave me a pointed look. "I know what a horse is, Bella," he replied icily.

We were on our way to my last (and frankly, most enjoyable) chore: caring for Roberta, the family horse. She was beautiful and kind, much unlike our demonic cow, and really loved to be around people. Taking care of her was a favorite among us children, and had been for as long as we could remember, ever since my father had gotten her all those years ago.

I looked to Edward, repeating my previous question. "Well, have you ever ridden one?"

Judging from his silence, I guessed that the answer could be one of two things: yes, he had ridden one before, but he was just embarrassed by it (for some unknown reason) and didn't want to tell me, or he hadn't ever. Either I would _probably_ react to incredulously, which was most likely why he didn't want to tell me in the first place. So I tried to keep my expression composed, readying myself to respond with indifference towards whatever he threw at me.

But I what I wasn't prepared for was what he actually did tell me.

"Actually, I have," he said, a faraway look in his emerald green eyes. Looking at my raised eyebrows, he smirked. "Only once or twice, though."

I laughed at his expression, so devilishly cute, and walked in front of him, turning so that I was facing him. "Well, then, I guess today we will improve your horse-riding skills, won't we?"

But of course, with this new position of walking backwards, my head turned away from where I was headed and my extremely uncoordinated feet stepping the opposite way from how they normally did, I was unable to stay so for much longer. Before I knew it, I was flying towards the ground, too shocked to think or even put my hands behind myself in defense. I squeezed my eyes shut, anxiously awaiting the hard impact of the dust-covered gravel against my back.

But it never came. Instead, what I felt were two strong hands against my body; one in between my shoulder blades, and the other at the small of my back. My eyes shot open, only to find themselves gazing right into a seemingly boundless emerald abyss.

Edward and his beautiful green eyes smiled softly at me. "You have to watch where you're going, Miss Swan," he murmured. "We wouldn't want you to fall." And, instead of bringing me back to my feet, he picked me up bridal style, my legs dangling with his arm at the crook of my knee.

I giggled, trying to squirm away from his iron hold. "Edward! Let me go! I am perfectly capable of walking!"

He shook his head, raising one eyebrow. "Are you now? Didn't seem like it to me about..." he lifted one hand from underneath me, checking an imaginary watch on his wrist. "Oh, I don't know, about...five seconds ago?"

I looked exasperatedly to the heavens, sighing dramatically. "Why did you grace me with such ungainly inelegance?" I whined, and then turned to Edward, who was looking at me with that all-too-adorable crooked smile on his face. _Focus, Bella,_ I thought, and did my best at putting on a pouty expression. Jutting out my lower lip, I glanced at him from underneath my eyelashes. "Please...Edward? Can you put me down?"

For a minute all was still. The trees, the wind, even the birds ceased all noise, and Edward stood there with a shocked expression on his face. But then his features shifted into a glazed look, almost as if something unearthly had come over him, or if he had been put into a trance.

Looking at him, I realized that he was being affected by me in the same way I was always being dazzled by him. Inwardly, I rejoiced, doing a victory dance in my mind at this new discovery. But I tried to keep my pout; it would ruin everything if I just gave in now.

"Please, Edward?" I repeated, blinking a few times as he watched me warily.

His own eyes widened a little. "Uh...sure," he said, furrowing his eyebrows. "Whatever you-" But suddenly he was cut off, the sound of a high pitched shriek interrupting whatever he was about to say.

We both turned, startled by the strange, abrupt noise, to the direction of where we guessed was its origin. Weirdly, it had been coming from the bushes about fifteen feet away from us, right next to our mailbox. I stared at it for a while, debating whether or not to go check it out or not.

"Oh well," I shrugged. "Probably just an animal or something."

Edward nodded. "Yeah. Most likely." Establishing the fact that the prior distraction was indeed nothing to worry about, we started walking again, and soon got to the stable where an anxious Roberta waited for us.

This time, I didn't have knock on the large wooden door, as I had previously done with the crabby cow. I pushed it right open, cheerfully calling out to my favorite horse. "Birdie! Birdie, I'm here! And look, I brought a new friend!" I picked up the bucket of molasses cookies we kept near the door for our regular visits. "Birdie! Where are you?" I sang, smiling as I looked around the corner, where, sure enough, the pretty horse stood.

Beautiful was a better fitting word for the creature before me. With a golden coat of shining fur that practically sparkled in the sun, Roberta was easily the most prepossessing horse in the county. Her wide, understanding dark eyes were captivating from the moment you saw her, and when she looked at you it was almost as if she could see every thought that passed through your mind. Her mane, which was long and silky, was as black as a starless night and as wild as though a constant wind was whipping through it.

A few times, a few months after we had first gotten her, my parents had tried to enter her in state pageants and contests, in hopes of bringing in just a small percentile of what we all knew she was worth. But Roberta was too overwrought, too antsy to stay in one place for too long a time. She was a carefree horse, and hated the confinements of the crowded fairs and claustrophobic environments.

For a while after that, my father and mother were seriously deciding whether or not to keep her. She was bringing in no profit, not proving the worth that my father had been promised. But in the end, she was our horse, and anything was better than putting her back in the conditions my father had discovered her in.

"What breed is she?"

I was brought out of my thoughts by Edward's sudden question, and I looked over to find him marveling at Roberta's beauty. He, cautiously at first, stroked her neck, and after she nuzzled his chest in praise, he did so more confidently.

I thought for a moment. "Moyle, I believe."

He turned to me, one eyebrow raised. "Moyle? I've never heard of that before."

I nodded. "They're extremely rare. They're a relative of the Mustang, except Moyles are primarily used for light riding." I could see the question practically forming on his lips, so I continued. "My father bought her from a man a few years ago. He had discovered her in a dirty warehouse, locked in a small cage with no evidence of food whatsoever. Seeing her state, he immediately sought the owner of the building, and paid Roberta's way free." I paused, and then smiled. "We've had her ever since, and just can't imagine life without her, can we, Birdie?" I kissed the horse's nose as I held up a molasses treat.

"Your father is a special man," Edward said, looking at me kindly, his eyes soft. "Not many people would stop to help such a creature in need."

"I know it," I said, and then shook my head sadly. "I hate to think of how her life would have been if my dad hadn't stumbled across her that day."

"Probably a thousand times worse."

It was quiet now, as we both stood across from each other, our hands developing a sort of rhythm as we stroked the beautiful horse's mane, neck, and snout. I sighed, lost in my thoughts for a few silent moments before I cleared my throat. "Well, what are we waiting for? We still have a chore to accomplish."

.......................................

"I thought you said you've never ridden a horse before!"

I whined, moaning and stomping my foot childishly as I watched Edward lead Roberta in a flawless canter around the clearing. He had been doing various tricks and showing off for the past fifteen minutes or so, and I was getting pretty ticked off.

I mean, of course at first I was amazed. I couldn't help the shocked gasps and astonished exclamations that had first come to me when I saw him perfectly mount the horse, without any explanation or direction whatsoever. But as time went on, and his obvious riding skills became more apparent, I got annoyed. What the hell was this baloney about never horseback-riding before or the "oh, maybe once or twice," nonsense.

Edward led Roberta back to me, the reigns gripped loosely in his strong hands. He grinned. "Well, I lied."

I scoffed. "No, really? I had no idea. Especially after that goddamned stunt with the legs and the kick and the stuff..." I trailed off, pouting as I remembered how he had gotten Roberta to stand on her hind legs, bringing her front two up in a majestic pose that I had never before seen.

Edward smiled and dismounted (perfectly, of damn course), and walked over to me. No, actually, it was more like a saunter, a sultry, seductive saunter that would normally make me weak in the knees, if I wasn't so pissed off at him.

I refused to look him in the eye as he said, "Hey, don't be mad with me, okay? I just wanted to surprise you. My uncle had bred and trained horses back when I was home, and so I was able to grow up with them ever since I was three. I've had a lot of practice."

I rolled my eyes, still not looking at him. "Clearly." I paused. "And what do you mean, surprise? How the hell was this a surprise? 'Look, Bella! It's yet another thing I'm absolutely goddamned perfect at! Surprise!'" I clenched my jaw, glaring at the ground.

I felt his hands start to massage my shoulders. "Come on, Bella," he said, starting to sound worried.

"Take a hike, Cullen."

Suddenly, his hand was on my chin, forcing me to look into his dazzling green eyes. He was gazing at me, a pleading expression on his face as he brought my face close to his. "Please, forgive me, Bella?" I could smell his sweet scent all around me.

My resolve was crumbling quickly. If he kept this up, I would be done for in just moments. Squeezing my eyes shut tightly, it took all the resistance and will left in me to shake my head.

I could hear Edward cursed under his breath. "I'll do anything you want!" I shook my head again. "I'll take you to dinner?" Again, no, "Well, what if I told you I could teach you how to do that? You know, that 'goddamned stunt with the legs and the kicks and the stuff'?" His smile was evident in his voice as he said the last part, and I knew he was hopeful that I would accept his offer.

I considered this for a moment, and then sighed. "Okay, but only because you look like some lost puppy or something."

He grinned crookedly at me and grabbed my hand, leading me over to where Roberta still stood obediently. Which was a good thing, it ended up, because that beautiful lopsided smile was making me internally swoon and lose all coherent thought.

Edward helped me up first, boosting me up slowly by my bottom. And, as his hands left me, I could swear they lingered for a bit longer, his fingers trailing lightly on denim fabric against my thighs. But then again, I wasn't sure, and shrugged that thought off as he climbed up quickly behind me.

"Okay," he said authoritatively, as if he was a schoolteacher giving his students a stern lecture. "To be sure that you follow every one of my instructions, I need you to get as close to me as possible, so if you could scoot up a bit, that would be wonderful."

I listened carefully, and did as he said.

"Closer." I shifted backwards a little more. "Closer." I repeated my movement again, and could now feel him slightly against me when I shifted a certain way. "Closer." Raising an eyebrow, I didn't say anything, but obeyed all the same. After all, I guess he _did_ know what he was doing.

"Closer."

I turned to him and glared at the amused smile I found. "You can't be serious. I'm practically on _top_ of you!" I hissed, realizing the truth in my words; I was basically sitting on his lap now, every line of his body pressed as tightly to my own as humanly possible.

He grinned, gave a chaste kiss to my cheek, and wrapped his arms around my waist. Ignoring my exclamation, he continued. "Now, before you start to actually learn the kick, you should get adjusted to your seat properly. You don't want to fall off in midair." I nodded, shuddering at that apparent possibility.

So, carrying out his orders, I sat upright, clenched my calves against Roberta's sides, and gripped the reigns. I mentally congratulated myself; I was in the perfect riding position, as my father had taught me all those years ago.

But then I felt Edward's hands on my arms, so light and delicate, as if he were touching a glass sculpture. They traveled from my shoulders to the crease in my elbow, and along my forearms, and then back up the same path. Immediately, I tensed, but then I could hear his voice in my ear.

"Shh...Bella, stay calm. I'm only checking to see if your form is correct. Nothing to get worried about."

And although his tone was soothing and calm, his touch alighted my skin with fiery flames. His hands were moving with more pressure now, and ventured past my arms, down to my hips, where they massaged slow, wide circles. After that, they traveled down my legs to reach my ankles. Edward reached down, grasping onto them, and then made his way back up in a wavy, undulating lines.

I bit my lip as his hands lingered on my thighs, my hold on the leathery reigns tightening as he felt along the underside of my legs. He ran his hands back and forth there, my knuckles burning a hot white every time his magical fingers got remotely close to my increasingly heated center. "So tense," he murmured into my ear. "Something got you edgy, Bella?" I trembled, quivering as I tried to shake my head.

Never before in my life had I ever felt so sexually attracted to a person. It was something about Edward Cullen; his hands, his voice, his _lips_, that made me practically shake with desire. Part of it scared me, made me want to run away and leave these new feelings behind, but for the most part, it thrilled me. Something made me want to explore with him, discover things and uncover things I never had known before.

And then a thought came to me. "You planned this out, didn't you?"

"Shh..." But I could hear the smile in his soft voice.

Presently his hands were moving back up, this time traveling onto my stomach. He traced invisible patterns; swirly designs and curved markings along the denim fabric of my clothes. But as the seconds passed, his patterns grew wider, spanning and traveling across more of my body roaming higher and higher along my ribcage. And then, as light as a feather of a butterfly's wing, I felt it: his fingers brushing the underside of my breasts.

I let out a shaky breath, letting my weight lean against him like mush. I closed my eyes, enjoying the sensation of his touch on my body.

He had stopped for a moment when I had sighed, but sensed my letting go as my relinquishing to his caress, and continued.

Now his hands were undoubtedly cupping my breasts, but ever so lightly. While his palms held up my chest, his thumbs stroked small rings above my nipples, yet never actually touching them. But finally, when they passed over my hardened peaks, I couldn't help the small moan that escaped my lips.

And apparently, that did it for Edward. He flipped me around so that I was straddling him, gripping my hips tightly so that I wouldn't lose balance. In this new position, I could clearly feel the obvious bulge in his pants. Tentatively, not really sure what came over me, I reached down, rubbing his evident erection with my fingertips.

"Oh, God, Bella!" he groaned, and attacked my lips with his own.

I gladly welcomed the taste, and especially the return of his hands on my thighs. I, however, ventured up, grabbing hold of the buttons that held his borrowed flannel shirt together. "Goddamned evil buttons," I whispered against his lips as I struggled to get them through the holes. His mouth trailed a wet, hot path up to my neck, underneath my ear.

I felt him smile against my skin. "Allow me," he breathed, and quickly undid those unholy clasps.

I made sure to take full advantage of his newly unveiled chest, running my hands up and down the chiseled plains. Muscles after muscles. That's what Edward's chest was made up of. It was like I was touching a rock, and I told him so in a heated whisper.

"Yeah, a rock," he smirked against my cheek. "You know what else is hard as a rock right now?" He took both of my hands into his, bringing them down to rest where they had been moments before.

This time, with my entire palms applying pressure to the swelling in his pants, I could really tell just exactly how...large he was. I gasped, not only at the sensation but at how direct he was with his words. Never before had I heard Edward Cullen, Mr. Collected, Mr. Polite, the epitome of chivalry, talk so crudely.

And I kind of liked it.

There was no stopping my whimpers and moans as continued to work his hands across every part of my body. And, truth be told, it was kind of embarrassing, as I probably sounded like some wounded kitten in the middle of a quiet room. So instead of focusing on my sounds, I tried to put my concentration on getting him as loud as me.

At first I was tentative, cautious and gentle, only touching him with the lightest of caresses. But, as my confidence grew (and frankly, as something else grew, too), I applied more force and pressure, experimenting different strokes and palpation, trying to see which got the most reaction out of him. Soon, I developed a rhythm, kneading and massaging and rubbing, and with every passing moment his jaw clenched more firmly and his eyes shut tighter.

But, just as I thought I was getting somewhere, he stopped me, grabbing me by the wrists and holding me off him. "God, Bella, do you have any idea what you're doing to me?" he growled in my ear, his voice dripping with raw passion.

"Why don't you show me," I breathed in reply, and inwardly I was stunned at my newfound confidence.

Apparently, Edward was too. For a minute, he just looked at me with those hooded green eyes, but then he smirked. "Alright, then," he said, slowly moving the straps of my overalls down my arms as he spoke. "If you say so, Miss Swan."

This was all so strange. I mean, not the fact that we were getting so heavy together (I had known this would happen eventually since our little scene in the barn). No, it was the fact that I was letting myself go so quickly, so willingly handing my body over to a man that I loved. But nothing about it felt wrong; it was actually just the opposite.

It was all _right_.

By now, Edward had the top of my overalls rolled down and half of my white cotton shirt unbuttoned, revealing the stark white bra I had underneath. For a moment, I blushed, never having revealed this much skin in front of anyone before, much less a man.

But Edward kissed my cheeks, whispering against them, "Don't you dare blush, Bella Swan. You are the most gloriously beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on." His lips wandered downward, pressing softly underneath my collarbone as he made quick work of the rest of my shirt.

Slowly, looking first at me for approval, he pulled down one of the cups, revealing my swollen pink nipple. "Glorious," he murmured again, and then bent down toward it, pressing his lips to it as he had previously done above my chest. I moaned loudly, practically thrusting my breast into his mouth in desperate need of relief.

I didn't need to wait much longer. Taking my eagerness as an invitation, Edward took my hardened bud between his lips, swirling his warm tongue around it as he massaged the other with his hand. It was like magic; _he_ was like magic, and I was spiraling towards heaven, falling closer and closer every second to that long-awaited ecstasy. I tipped my head back, letting the pure euphoria take over me.

And then Roberta's tail slapped Edward's back.

The horse whinnied, getting uncomfortable with the stand-still position for so long. She started to shift anxiously, causing us to wobble and get off balance. I kicked her side once, hoping she would get the message that this was not the best damned time to want to go for a ride. I hoped Edward didn't notice; I would rather die than end this perfect bliss.

But the damage had already been done. Edward sighed against my skin, and then looked up at me. "I guess that's our five minute warning," he chuckled, and proceeded to start getting me decent again.

I groaned, trying to stop his hands, which where now buttoning my blouse up again. "Why should we listen to a horse? I mean, we are the dominant organisms here!" I leaned down to his ear, trying to change my voice from desperate to seductive. "Come on, Edward, are we really going to listen to empty threats from an animal? I could think of better things to do," I whispered, brushing my lips against his ear lobe.

For a minute, I actually thought it worked. Edward's eyes became the same shaded dark green as before, and the muscles along his forearms tensed up. He looked as if he was having an internal battle and shut his eyes, and in my own mind I rejoiced gleefully at the chance I might win.

But then his eyelids opened to show the perfectly clear, cool emerald I was always used to seeing, and I knew it was done. "I hate this stupid horse," I huffed, and turned myself over so that I wasn't facing him anymore.

He put his hands on my shoulders; a loving gesture, rather than the heated, lust-filled touch that possessed those hands a few moments ago. "It's okay, Bella. We have lots of time ahead of us to, er...finish what we started."

Fire consumed my cheeks. "I hope so," I muttered.

Suddenly, Edward sat upright, tensing his legs against Roberta's sides. "Well, come on now, I still have to actually live up to my part of the bargain." He took my silence as confusion, and elaborated. "Don't you want to learn how to do that trick?"

I grinned. "You better believe it."

......................................

It was nearing the end of the day, and the last thing in the world that I wanted to do was to let Edward out of my arms.

"Don't go," I whispered to him, leaning against his chest with a sigh. "Don't leave me."

We were sitting in the living room, on the floor, as we watched Lilly become engrossed in her imaginary game. My father was out in the field, along with the twins, and my mother had taken Mary Anne and left for town about an hour ago, saying that she needed to visit Mrs. Riley, whom she had patched a pair of corduroy pants for last week. Bethany had been moaning and groaning about missing a special event at the library, so Edward offered to watch our youngest sibling. Beth jumped at that idea, of course, and that was pretty much how we ended up alone in the house.

Just a few minutes ago Edward mentioned something about leaving. "So soon?" I had asked, and he nodded, telling me that his men were probably wondering where he was for the past twenty four hours.

But instead of agreeing with him, I just held on tighter, telling him that he couldn't leave yet.

"I have to," he said softly, burying his head into my neck. "I would rather eat a thousand of those revolting molasses cookies than leave you," He was referring to earlier, when I made him try one of Roberta's horse treats, which he apparently found 'more disgusting than the food they served in war'. "But, of course, I have to. Duty calls, you know."

I sighed. "Don't want your men to worry now, do you?"

"No, not worry." He laughed. "They're probably doing the complete opposite of worrying right now. Most likely they're just glad to have rid their stick-in-the-ass general, Sullen Cullen, for a day and a half." He shook his head, grinning, not in the least bothered by what they think about him.

"Do they really call you that?" I marveled, raising my eyebrows.

"Sure they do. I'd call myself that too, if I were them."

I smiled, turning around so that I was face-to-face with him. "I don't find you sullen," I said, giggling as I ran my fingers lightly across his jaw. He grinned in return, pulling my hand to press his lips to my knuckles.

"I'm glad," He said, and then sighed, starting to get up. "But I really do have to go now. The sun's setting, and I probably have a huge load of work to do piled up from yesterday." Noticing my pout, he gave a small smile. "I'm sorry Bella, really, I am. I wish I could just stay here forever with you."

"Then why don't you?" I kissed the corner of his mouth, wrapping my arms around his neck.

He just shook his head, smiling. _I hope he doesn't think I'm some kind of clingy, whiny girlfriend,_ I thought, biting my lip. He noticed the worry in my face immediately, and asked what was wrong. "You probably think I'm a bothersome little girl, don't you?" I furrowed my eyebrows, looking at the floor.

He bent down onto a knee, looking up at me. "Listen to me, Bella, you are not bothersome in any way possible. Stubborn, maybe," he grinned, letting me know he was kidding. "But _not_ bothersome. And," his smile grew devilish as he ran his hands over my hips. "You are _not_ a little girl."

I shrieked in surprise as his hands gave a quick pat on my bottom, making Lilly look over to glare at us. "You're ruining Mr. Hippo's date at the drive-in!" She said, her face scrunching up in irritation. I slapped my hand over my mouth, trying not to giggle, as Edward made his way over to her.

"Listen, little Miss Hippo, I gotta go. Next time-" But he didn't get to finish, because the minute the words processed in her mind, the toddler yelped and threw her arms around his leg, clutching on for dear life.

"Don't go! Don't go!" She wailed, still squeezing on to his calf.

Edward looked at me incredulously. "Do I see a family pattern here?" He teased, gently prying off Lilly's arms and legs, and turned to the now mopy girl. "Hey, don't be sad, Little Hippo. I'll be back as soon as I can. And make sure," he leaned down to whisper something into her ear, looking at me the entire time, almost conspiratorially. I raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

Lilly squealed, obviously in reaction to whatever he had told her. "You betcha, Big Hippo!" She giggled, and ran off somewhere.

Edward came over to me, a sad smile on his face. "Really, Bella, I mean it. I'll be back the second I can; I'll run to this house if I have to." I didn't laugh. "Please?" He whispered, bringing his forehead to lean against mine. "I'll try to come the day after tomorrow."

I nodded, realizing that this was the best I was going to get.

And then, the strangest feeling came over me. It was pure desire, yet unlike the fiery, passionate desire I had felt this afternoon with him. It was different; an unadulterated, uncontrollable _want_ to be with him, to forever be a part of him. It was suddenly like all the love that was in my heart was spilling over, overflowing so much that I couldn't keep it in me any longer. "I love you, Edward," I whispered, closing my eyes.

I don't really know what came over me. I mean, up until this point I was pretty much scared out of my mind to even utter the word love, much less to him than to myself or others. But now...I don't know. It just slipped out and, oddly enough, I felt a relief, like the weight of the world had been lifted off of my shoulders.

But then came the scary part. All was silent for a moment; a moment so frightening to me that I had the strong urge to just run away and hide myself in the biggest, darkest hole I could find. Edward's expression was blank as he processed this, and for a second I actually thought he was contemplating whether or not to get as far away from me as possible.

And then he crushed his lips to mine.

"Oh God, Bella, I love you," He said in gasps. We were in a wild frenzy, now, our lips and kisses fighting for dominance. "I've wanted to tell you for so long, but, but-" I cut him off, pressing my mouth against his, shutting him up.

"Don't talk," I whispered.

I didn't have to tell him twice. We stumbled backwards, and suddenly my back was against a door, his lips ravishing my neck, my shoulders, my eyelids, while I traced each muscle and tendon in his back. Edward was pressed up close to me, so that I could feel every line of his body against mine.

This went on for a pretty embarrassingly long time (truly, I was becoming one of those girls at my school who spent all of their time kissing boys). But, alas, a mouth has to get tired at one point, even though my heart (and my hormones) said to keep going, we collapsed against each other, our breathing labored as if we had just participated in a marathon.

"I love you, Bella," Edward said, smiling at me softly.

"I love you, too, Edward," I replied.

And suddenly the pain inside of me that grieved the fact that he was leaving was overcome by the immense happiness that I felt at the thought that my love was not unrequited or spurned, and that there might be a chance I might get my own happily ever after.

* * *

**There you go! Hope you liked it! And yes, FINALLY they did the deed. That is, tell each other they loved them (Yes, I was referring to that. Get your mind out of the gutter!). Please remember to review, PM, or just generally contact me on any thoughts or comments. I hope you're excited for the next one!**

**And, by the way, this story is no where NEAR close to ending.**


	15. War

**Hey-hey-hi-hello-hello!**

**What's up my lovely little leiblings? Anyway, I'd like to thank all of you, as always, for reading and reviewing last chapter. I guess the equation of steamy scene + mystery plot + hippo infatuation + horses = a lot of things to say, huh? But, to get on with my dedication, this chapter goes out to EverIntruiged, who left the wonderful note of: _"Now, if you could simply continue writing so we can finally put Edward's "bulge", Bella's "heated centre" out of their misery - that'd be great!"_ Wonderfully put, madam, though I'm sorry to say it won't exactly be happening in this chapter.**

**Anyway, to get on to business, I thought long and hard about this chapter before writing it. I just couldn't get it right in my head what evil scheme...ahem..._Mystery Characte_r would do to the star crossed lovers. But then, I _got_ it, like the lightbulb in the weird little thing I call my brain just suddenly lit up. It's perfect; it will trigger a whole bunch of drama that I was just itching to bring into this story. Before we get to that though, it's mostly just a bunch of flashbacks for our favorite military man. And, therefore, I leave you with this:**

**Do _not_ kill me.**

* * *

_"The greatest griefs are those that we cause ourselves."  
-Sophocles- _

Edward POV: **(finally!)**

I slid out the door of the Swan residence, unable to keep that stupid, "Too-Large-For-Your-Face" grin off of my lips.

Bella _loved_ me. My beautiful, sweet, perfect Bella loved me.

I laughed freely; something I had been unable to do for what seemed like an eternity. Breaking into a run, my perpetually unruly, untamable hair whipping wildly, I marveled over the last few months, those months that felt like years I had known her, my love.

....................................

I recalled the first time I had met her, on the porch steps of that dilapidated corner marketplace. I had been bringing my men home that day, directly after a small scuffle just to the west of Ohio (it didn't take long; just a few bandits looking for anything to sell). And though everyone seemed to be insouciant and carefree, I remember being uneasy. Uneasy about coming home. We had been fighting for so long, working so hard, and although I knew the soldiers deserved breaks, that the grueling effort it took for them to be in this war was quite taxing to their health, I could hardly say so for myself. I still had work to do, still a country to fight for.

It seemed like I was giving up, letting others fill my place while I relaxed in the confines of a small town. But then again, I was ordered so by the General, and who was I to disobey my superiors?

_"Cullen," he'd said to me that day, after requesting my attendance in his office. I stood there in front of him, a stiff, respectable stance taking over my position. "I'd like you to know that you're doing a hell of a job out there. You're determined and trustworthy, and your relentless perseverance makes you one of our most valued officers out here."_

_"Thank you, Si-"_

_But he cut me off, holding his flexed hand out in front of me. "But that's precisely the reason I brought you down here today. That untiring insistence is getting you a ship home." I was unable to keep the incredulous expression off of my face, but stayed quiet as he continued. "Cullen, as I've said before, you're one of our best men out here. But all men have to sleep, even you, Lieutenant."_

_My forehead creased as I looked at him uneasily. Was he really telling me what I thought he was? Could I possibly be imagining the foreign words that were coming out of his mouth? "I apologize, Sir," I said slowly. "But I don't think I understand what you're saying."_

_But the General didn't answer my question. Or, statement I suppose. Instead, he stepped closer to me and put a heavy hand on my shoulder, pulling his earnest lips into a somewhat-smile. He was a large man, and I could smell the warm aroma of European cigars wafting off of his clothes. "Face it, Cullen," he said, his voice having an almost jocularity to it. "You're going home."_

So I went home. "Home", as in a cramped little municipality, otherwise called by its residents: Arlington, Illinois. Population: 176. I was rancorous, naturally, as my typical behavior was always somewhat morose, but this particular occurrence caused my mood to plummet rather substantially.

My men, on the other hand, seemed peculiarly jubilant the moment they arrived home, which for some reason was strange to me. Of course, I had until that point anticipated that their spirits would be high, but this was just an entirely new level. All of this for some rural, backwater community?

The townspeople (_all two of them_, I laughed bitterly in my thoughts) welcomed back their boys with the greatest level of hospitality, and all was perfectly exultant. The enraptured crowd, intoxicated by the flying spirits and the buoyant atmosphere, marched down the streets and sang loudly, waving American flags and trying to look as patriotic as they possibly could. And, as we passed the modest buildings and shops and houses, more gathered into our small band, itching to get in on the great excitement.

The rejoicing mood, however, didn't quite reach me. I'm not supposed to be here, I kept thinking, envisioning the others who had to fill my place just so I could take a gratuitous, completely unnecessary break. So I stood back a little, trying to disappear in the mass of people, a careful frown on my lips.

"Hey, General, can't ya quit the sour-puss attitude for just a minute to celebrate?" I looked over to my life-long best friend, Jasper Whitlock, that ever-present smirk on his face. He bumped my arm, raising his eyebrows like an idiot, and I couldn't help but grin.

And then his smile got wider, his ice blue eyes focusing on something behind me. He slowed his march, stopping for a moment to brush a strand of his blonde hair out of his line of sight. "Speaking of celebrating," He laughed. "Looks like you might have a little roll in the hay tonight if you play your cards right." He grinned, jerking his thumb to where he had been looking. I sighed and turned around, humoring him so that he'd finally leave me alone.

And I was met with the most glorious sight in the universe.

The beauty, the heavenly vision, was a _she_. A girl, my age, if not a year or two younger. Her hair was a gorgeous shade of mahogany, deep and warm, the streaks of brilliant red shining wherever the sun hit it as the waves rolled softly down her slightly arched back. Her figure was slim, yet shapely, and her skin was a creamy ivory. As I tore my eyes away from her body, I noticed the warm blush that tainted her cheeks, her full red lips parted ever so slightly.

But the most heavenly part of her was, undoubtedly, her eyes. Those huge, doe-like orbs gazed back at me, melting my heart while simultaneously constraining me to my spot. I was paralyzed, stuck in my spot by those chocolate irises, those vivid globes of pure, unadulterated beauty. They held so much intelligence, so much understanding, that I instantly felt a foreign feeling I had never before experienced in my life: intimidation.

Almost immediately, the angel turned away from me, a perfect scowl on her stunning face. I forced my own gaze away from her, to the man, aged and clad in casual denim overalls, she seemed to have been in previous conversation with. The girl said something to him, and he replied, a stubborn expression consuming his features. Over the loud shouting and singing in my ear, I could faintly hear a female voice coming from their direction, raised in frustration.

"Sorry, Jazz," I said, leaning over to murmur in my friend's ear. "I have to take care of something. I'll be back." Jasper merely shrugged and grinned at me, doing that stupid wag-the-eyebrows thing at me.

God, he was such a pig sometimes.

I maneuvered my way through the vigorous crowd, towards the small building that the angel and the old man stood conversing. Or, rather arguing from the looks of it. The two were truly going at it now, bickering back and forth over something I couldn't quite tell. Hopping up the steps lightly, I came up behind the girl, stepping close enough to be considered in their conversation, but not too close to seem as though I were rudely intruding.

I came in to see the old man shaking his head, his frail hands placed stubbornly on his hips. "...price," he was saying as I caught the tail end of his sentence. He still didn't seem to notice me standing there and continued, gesturing with his thin hands. "I guess you'll just have to go without a little warmth for the next few-"

I cleared my throat, raising an eyebrow. "Is there a problem here?" I asked suspiciously, looking between the girl and the man.

Immediately, they both turned to me, as if I had just suddenly appeared out of thin air (which, I suppose, to them I had). The old man's hand flew up to his chest, his face going deathly pale, as if the blood had completely left his system. The beautiful girl's eyes, as soon as she saw me, widened to an impossibly huge size, like she'd seen a ghost. _Well, gee,_ I thought, _that did a lot for my ego_.

The man, whom I had learned was named Adam Sentry, spoke looking at his feet, his face dawning a bashful expression. This was a reaction I'd grown accustomed to over the past few years; at first, I took it as a sign of mere respect for an officer, a polite way of saying "Yes, I know you're in the military, thanks for pointing it out." But, as time passed, I realized that I was _intimidating_ people. It was a different feeling, of course, but soon I was simply acclimatized to the concept.

As I thought of intimidation, I turned to the divine being. Something was strange about her, this young girl, that made my heart thump with anticipation, my breath quicken with suspense. Maybe it was her obvious loveliness, the fact that I had never laid eyes on any one female that possessed as much beauty as she; that was more than enough to set those damn hormones alight. Or maybe it was her mysteriousness, the enigma that _she_ herself presented to me. I had always been attracted to a challenge, and perhaps this was enough of a provocation to accept.

Looking at the two people before me, I automatically assumed that the girl was his daughter. They had been bickering as if they were so, and so it had been the first thing in my mind. "Miss, Sentry, I presume?" I asked, gazing into those deep brown orbs. They stared back at me, a mixture of vibrant emotions visible before my eyes, as readable as the Sunday newspaper. It was the most dazzling thing I'd ever seen, and I struggled to keep my even tone. "Are you his daughter?"

But, before she could open those full lips, the third party intervened. Mr. Sentry exclaimed something about how he was thankful she wasn't, and when I asked, he explained, "Such a stubborn one, that girl is. Like she was rooted to her spot. You see," He chuckled, yet there was the slightest detection of annoyance in his tone. "She's been trying to get me to change the prices on my oil tanks. I told her little sister the day before, I told her, 'Now, you go tell your family that this here oil's one eighty-five for two gallons. Make sure you tell them exactly that.'"

_Ah, so this is what it's about_, I thought, looking between the two. "I'll pay the difference," I said simply, not thinking twice about it.

So this girl, this Isabella Swan, was both beautiful and defiant; _that_ I knew. Because at the slightest suggestion of me paying, she exclaimed in a pretty soprano voice, the first thing she had yet to truly say: "Oh, dear no!" Her eyes widened, her perfectly arched eyebrows raising dramatically as her perfectly pouted lips formed a small _O_. "You can't do that for me!" She shook her head adamantly, her mahogany locks twisting and whipping against her face.

_Ah, _I thought_, __and__ independent_.

I grinned. "Actually, I _can," _I said amusedly, staring down at her. Her frame was small and petite, so much that I could stand at least a foot taller than her. I tried to lean down a bit, to lessen the height difference, but not too close that I seemed forward. She inhaled once, and a strange expression crossed her face.

_Oh god_, I thought, filled with a sudden horror, _I'll probably scare her away with my "Been-At-War-In-The-Dirt-For-Three-Years-I-Hope-You-Don't-Mind" odor_. I stepped back a little, almost gingerly, so as to try to further the distance between my awful smell and her luscious body.

We argued for a bit more, going back and forth like an old married couple (I tried to expel the instantaneous happy feeling from my mind at the thought of marrying this Venus). But as stubborn as I learned this _Bella_ was, she didn't know she was going up against the most obdurate, uncompromising man in all of the military.

So, obviously, I won. I mean, I suppose I'll admit that I didn't play fair, in the sense that I had decided, as a last resort, to send a passion-filled look her way (it was a trick I'd learned a while back, when I was about fifteen and found that women were rather...attracted to me). She seemed to resist it for a few moments, clearly battling herself to stay strong, but I guess the move surprised her, and her gaze became cloudy. She nodded blankly, simply thanking me before she let it go.

I grinned with my triumph and bent down to pick up her small, dainty hand. She grasped my own, suspecting that I was going to shake it. Instead, I brought her knuckles to my lips, the velvety skin warm and soft and fragrant. Immediately, I felt a tiny shock, almost like a small electric current was running between us. I just shrugged it off.

"Thank you," she whispered, looking up at me from beneath her eyelashes; a move that nearly sent my heartbeat into a frenzy. Those beautiful lips formed a ravishing smile, and at that moment the sun chose to shift its light onto her, her skin and hair illuminating in such a way that I had absolutely no doubt in my mind that I was facing an angel, or perhaps the reincarnate of Venus herself.

And that had been the first day I met Isabella Swan.

............................

_God, it had been so long ago,_ I thought, shaking my head.

I kicked a loose pebble on the road, watching as it skipped with soft pats into the overgrown grass. The sun was going down now, its muted light a mixture of brilliant oranges and reds and pinks. A gentle, cool breeze blew, ruffling the browning leaves on the ground. There were barely any left on the trees; most had fallen down in the dwindling season.

Sighing, I looked ahead, the road going on for what seemed like miles until it reached town, which was where, unfortunately, I needed to be. I started to quicken my pace again, worried that I'd be admonished for my insouciant attitude, but then stopped suddenly. I knew that I would be reprimanded, scolded even by my higher authorities for letting work get piled up. My men would taunt me, too, that was for sure. They would assume that, because I spent the night at a beautiful woman's home, I was up to no good. I looked down at myself, shocked by what I had just discovered.

Because strangely, for the first time in my entire career, I didn't _care_.

...........................

I reminisced silently, smiling to myself as I thought over the events that night: the dining room, that obnoxious first encounter with that horrible Lauren What's-Her-Face. _Malloney?_, I thought._ Oh, wait: Mallory. That's right_. Well, her and her little group of friends, the superficial look-alikes. They had been hounding me constantly, all evening, practically hanging off my arm as they told me insignificant details about their insignificant happenings, and all the while I couldn't get Bella Swan out of my head.

And then _she_ came in, like an angel descending straight from heaven. Instantly, I had felt the relief flood my entire being. And obviously, without so much as the slightest hesitation, I invited her to sit with us. And, as much as I felt sorry for subjecting her to this hellish activity, the way I saw it was this: if I was going down, so was she.

I learned much about Bella that evening, even if I had only talked to her for about fifteen minutes inside of the restaurant. I learned that she was a hard worker, and was always busy with some sort of job around town, and that she looked up to her father, whose advice she valued greatly, as she mentioned him somewhat often. And of course, I learned that she loved to read, so much unlike any other teenage girl I had ever met.

But the thing I found most interesting about her was that, when she talked about the things she loved, her eyes would light up. Like a fire that had been recently rekindled, her cheeks would turn a lovely flushed shade of pink, her brown gaze electrifying with intensity. I was enamored with her, prepossessed by the captivating beauty she radiated as she talked passionately about Jane Austen and Emily Bronte, animatedly gesturing with delicate hands all the while. I almost struggled to keep up, and had it not been for my strong infatuation with her, I might have missed it when she mentioned Shakespeare.

_Thank god my mother made me read classic literature_, I thought, and smiled eagerly. As I mindlessly rattled off one of the quotes I could vaguely recall from Romeo and Juliet, I thought of how I had so difficultly struggled with reading the book at first, swearing that I would never use its information for the rest of my life.

Now though, as I gazed into those deep pools of warm sienna, I decided that I would send my mom the biggest bouquet of flowers she'd ever seen in her life.

Bella's eyes went wide as she whispered softly, "Romeo and Juliet." Her eyes glazed over, and of course at that moment that imprudent, simple-minded idiot Lauren Mallory _had_ to make some snotty comment about the meaning of the quote, and of course her little lackeys _had_ to agree and giggle, and of course she had to take it a step further, insulting Bella's mother and family.

At that moment, I knew what was wrong with her. Lauren was _jealous_ of Bella. I could tell by the way she would send death glares her way, disguising it as distaste for the innocent girl's lifestyle, or by the way she discretely gave her a once-over every time she walked into the room, an envious air glazing over her ice-blue eyes. Lauren knew she was pretty- hell, _I_ even knew she was pretty- but her appeal was hideous compared to Bella's natural magnificence, and for that, she resented her.

The person that needed to understand this most, however, had no clue of what was really going on.

Bella's eyes alit with fire, except this time it was a passion for hate, and not one for love. In deft vitality, she reached for the nearest solid object: a glass of dark, blood red wine. She chucked it at Lauren, spilling it all over her overly-priced cheesy white dress. My eyes widened as I stepped back from the scene, unable to believe that meek, shy Bella had done this.

She smirked, saying something snidely to the witch who'd caused all of this before turning confidently to me. This was a new woman, one who I'd not witnessed in the past hours that I had known her. "Oh, and I do apologize, Lieutenant General Cullen, for cutting our conversation short," she said, raising her eyebrows as my jaw fell down to the floor. "It really _is_ too bad- I'd actually been enjoying myself." And with that, she turned around and briskly walked out of my presence.

I dumbly stared after her, blinking rapidly as delayed thoughts suddenly rushed through my head.

As far as I could tell, I had two alternatives. For one, I could take the cowardly way out, the pansy one. I could leave Bella alone to walk outside in the rain, let her probably catch something like pneumonia or the flu. She'd probably slip and fall in the mud and break her leg, with no one there to help her. And why should I care? It's not like I've known her my whole life, for Christ's sake. She was just another pretty girl, and heaven knows I've seen hundreds of them.

But something told me that, even if I witnessed hundreds of thousands of gorgeous women in my lifetime, not one could compare to Bella's beauty. She was simply captivating, and I knew that I was already hooked onto her, like some dangerous substance. I felt strangely protective of her, as if something compelled me to fend away any risk or danger that might present itself to her.

As I made my choice, I slowly regained consciousness into reality. Once there, I noticed that Lauren was just finishing up a long, droning rant. She was frantically pawing at her dress, which had been transformed from a tacky, fake-pearl covered white frock into a dripping, blood-red spotted piece. "That...that...that BITCH!" She cried hysterically, throwing herself against my chest.

Ignoring her, I glanced anxiously towards the door. How far had she made it by now? "And Daddy paid so much for this gown! It's french, for heaven's sake! FRENCH! It's insane how she just went all freaky on me and chucked a hard object! It's crazy! She's crazy! Like she came straight from the nuthouse. Edward, darling, didn't I tell you it was best to stay away from her kind?" She blinked up at me, batting her lashes as if she had gotten something in her eye.

Instead of replying, I shoved the baboon off of me and headed straight after the girl who was quickly stealing my heart.

..........................................

"She was so stubborn," I recalled, shaking my head as the memories continued to flow.

I remember seeing her there in the rain, finally, about fifteen minutes after she had left the entire scene in the ballroom. She was walking with her arms crossed, her head down, looking as miserable as I'd ever seen anyone look. But even with her brown hair soaked and hanging limply on her pale shoulders, her skin raw and covered in scratches from the pounding rain and hail, she still, almost miraculously, seemed an angel to me. A goddess, no matter what form she happened to appear in.

I called out to her, raising my hands to cup over my mouth. "Bella!" I shouted, trying to get her attention. She didn't seem to hear me. "Bella!" I tried again, but to no avail. She didn't so much as turn her head in the slightest, and continued to trudge through the wet mud.

I gasped for air, holding onto my sides. The sludge on the road, almost up to my mid-calf, made it impossibly difficult to keep a quick pace. It was almost like an ironic dream; no matter how fast I attempted to run, time just seemed to slow me down. Finally, I shouted exasperatedly, "BELLA! WILL YOU _PLEASE_, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, JUST _STOP WALKING_?"

Surprised by the sudden sound of my voice ringing through the air (which she conveniently _just_ decided to notice), Bella turned around; a pivot complete with the one-eighty turnaround and zero leg movement. This was, however, not exactly a move for the uncoordinated, which I soon learned Bella was, but only for those who can keep their footing in knee-deep sloshing mud.

Well, needless to say, Bella fell flat on her face into the mud puddle, sludge sloshing like a tidal wave around her. Her expression was delayed, but finally turned into a mixture of shock and anger as she cried out. I, myself, probably held an expression of pure, dumb-struck surprise as I looked at the now-clay-covered angel.

_God, Edward, are you an idiot?_ my conscience screamed at me. _Help her!_

I rushed over to the spot she lay in, concern immediately dawning my face. When I approached her, she was clutching her ankle, a pained look in her glorious brown eyes. "Are you hurt, Bella? I truly did _not_ mean for you to get hurt...I-I just wanted you to slow down, and-" I probably sounded like a bumbling idiot as I stuttered and examined her leg frantically, running my hands lightly around her swelling ankle.

I tried not to notice the sparking electricity as I touched her soft, smooth skin, and continued my rant. "Funny," I said, shaking my head. "You actually run quite fast for a wine-chucking, amazingly stubborn, apparently inattentive girl, you know that?"

She smirked sarcastically, a brilliant blush spreading across as she tried to look angry. "Ha. Ha." _She looks so adorable when she's angry..._

Wait a minute. What the HELL was I thinking? I'm Edward Cullen, Lieutenant General in this goddamn war! Not some blasted flower-picking, kitten-loving pansy. I'm a _man_, not a ten year old schoolgirl. I don't bow down to any beautiful blushing female, either. Since when was I soft at the mere mention of some broad? I stiffened my posture, squared my shoulders, and prepared myself to (professionally, damn it!) help her, escort her home safely, and get her the hell out of my life.

But as I looked once again into those deep brown pools, I found myself getting lost again. _She's so beautiful_...And then I noticed her angry, annoyed expression. "Sorry," I said sheepishly, though that inner voice was berating me for even _being_ sheepish. I began to ramble again, in order to drown out that annoying voice in my head. "But how was I supposed to know that you are _completely_ uncoordinated? And, if you had even been paying attention to your surroundings, maybe you wouldn't have been so surprised. It's really not my fault, when you think of it..." I looked at her sideways, not really trying to convince her but myself.

She didn't seem to buy it. "Well, that's not true!" She cried, giving me a pitiful glare as she searched for her words. "I was...well...I was..."

I raised my eyebrows teasingly. I _wanted_ to get a rise out of her. "Sure..."

"No! Really! I-"

I laughed, cutting her off. I knew exactly what would set her off. "Look, Bella," I grinned. "Just because you are shocked by my mere presence, does _not_ mean that you have to fall into a large puddle of mud." I looked at her pointedly, trying to conceal my joking manner. I'm sure, though, my eyes showed just exactly how funny I thought this whole thing was as I watched attentively for her reaction.

And I was right. She huffed exasperatedly. "Ugh!" she cried, throwing her head back.

For few moments, I just watched her with amusement, enjoying her provoked irritation for as long as I could. Then, deciding that she truly was in no condition to move, I got up, offering her my hand. Reluctantly, she grabbed it, undoubtedly still irked by my comments. She tried to jump up onto her ankle, which was probably a bad choice. She got up only to collapse into the mud again, crying out in pain. She looked up at me, a pout on her pained face. "You broke my ankle," she whimpered feebly.

Shit. I must have underestimated the fall. "Shit," I voiced aloud, then quickly shut my mouth. Was she the kind of girl who thought cursing was dirty? "I mean, shoot." My mother would have killed me if she saw how ungentlemanly I was acting towards Bella.

But instead, she surprised me yet again. "Edward," she said calmly. Almost too calmly. "I don't give a damn whether you swear until the world stops turning. But will you _please_, for the love of God," she gave me a pointed look, and I chuckled at the use of my words from earlier. "Just get me up from here!" She was shouting the last part, and I hastily picked her up into my arms.

I was able to have her bridal style for a few steps until she noticed.

"Okay!" She immediately said, her voice full of authority and determination. I looked her in the eyes, and suddenly she looked as if she were caught, that same glazed look as earlier going across her face.

_Did I do that to her?_ "Have a plan, Miss Swan?"

.......................................

The rest of that night went by in a blur for me. I could vaguely remember the game we played, Lies or something of that sort, and then my returning her home. I remembered meeting her father and mother, and walking to my own headquarters in a daze. I remembered asking myself how I was able to let out so much to a complete stranger, how I could let a stranger open up to me. I remembered thinking that I would visit her tomorrow, surely, and tried to convince myself that it was only for the purpose of approving her health.

But mostly I remembered the strange feeling that coursed through me.

It was one of pure energy, a sense of adrenaline much unlike I had felt in a long time. The electrifying vibrancy radiated, shot through my blood stream like a quick-working poison. I felt alive, exuberant with the buoyancy that I had lacked for my entire existence. And, come to think of it, it had only been an existence. An occupied spot on Earth, a mere continuation of an empty soul.

But now I felt alive. Alive with a passionate fire so ferocious it shook me to my very core. There was something about Bella Swan, something that made me want to finally take a breath of the clear air I had yet to taste. Part of it excited me, made me want to feel more of this entirely new sensation, but part of it scared me _because_ it was so new.

The following months I spent with her were pure, unadulterated bliss. I had someone I could share my very soul with, a person that I could confide my deepest thoughts in without worrying whether or not they would be accepted. And she was perfect. She knew just what to say to me, just how to react, that much of the time I found myself asking if she could truly be real. If she could actually exist, and that she wasn't just a figment of my deprived imagination. But the closer we became, the more dangerous our relationship seemed to turn into.

It seemed like ages ago that I decided that I would separate myself from Bella.

The ages that it seemed were, in actuality, only a mere day and a half. Earlier that evening, I had confronted my lifelong friend and confidant, Jasper Whitlock, about the whole thing. Well, not really, but at least I was able to get something out of our confusing conversation.

.......................................

I entered our quarters silently, thinking about the one thing that had enraptured my every thought since I met her: Bella.

I was caught in a tangled net of indecision. On one hand, it killed me to even _think_ about distancing myself from the girl I had grown so close to. And we were; incredibly close, that is. It seemed as if I had known her for my entire life. She probably knew me better than I even knew myself, and I'd bet quite a sum of money that it was the same way backwards. But how could I let someone that I care so much about into the wrecked burden that _is_ my life? Every time I saw or heard or even _thought_ about her, my heart soared with a euphoria I had never quite witnessed before.

Bella Swan was like my drug, and I was a hopeless addict.

What was this feeling? It was, indisputably, much more than a mere friendship. If we had been only friends, why did I look at her and imagine her in my arms? Could that simply be infatuation? Enchantment with the goddess who had secretly seduced me? But Bella was so innocent...and kind...and lovely. She was everything and nothing like what I had previously imagined my perfect woman to be, all at the same time.

She was always surprising me with her witty jokes and sarcastic remarks, her undeniable edge to the way she looked upon life. She was coarse and sardonic, so different from all the plain pretty faced girls. And yet, she was the most soft and feminine girl I'd ever met, nevertheless the most beautiful. I could never guess what she would say or do next, and that enthralled me. It was like a breath of fresh air, to have someone constantly amazing me, keeping incredulity a part of my daily life.

At this point, I knew everything that could be known about Bella, at least everything that any one person could know. I knew that her favorite color was a dark blue, and that she liked a mixture of chocolate and strawberry ice cream even though everyone told her it was gross. I knew that she hated the winter and loved the sun, and that she secretly adored the Andrew Sisters while complained to the outside world that they had no talent.

I knew that, when she got angry, her jaw clenched and her eyes started to blink rapidly, and that when she was thinking deeply her lips pursed and puckered slightly crookedly, leaning to one side of her chin. I knew that her hair turned red in the sun, and a deep chocolate when it was wet. I knew that she had five distinctly different smiles; each completely unique in their own way.

One was a small smile, a mere upturning of her lips that signified that she was quietly content, basking in the mere moment as if she wanted to preserve it forever. Everything about her was soft when she wore it, very picturesque. She was always thinking when she smiled like this. Another smile was tight and polite, when she was trying not to offend anyone, and a cynical one when she was looking at a fool. The next was suppressed and sarcastic, as if it took all her might not to burst out in laughter. There was her sad smile, the one she offered in place of tears, and of course, her best smile, by far my favorite: her completely carefree, untainted, beaming grin. She was beautiful, and there was nothing else to say about it.

Was it love? I had never in the past ventured near the word. But now, as I put a name to the feeling, it all just felt _right_. Like it was the correct answer in school after raising your hand for as long as you could stand. I, Edward Anthony Masen Cullen, was in love. With a seventeen year old girl named Isabella Swan.

But that was the problem. Our love could not exist.

Because someone so innocent and virtuous as Bella didn't belong with someone like me. I was entirely undeserving of any sort of feeling she could offer me, whether it be willing or not. And my life...it was too corrupt for her to even imagine being a part of. War was evil. War was horrifying. War would not touch my beautiful Bella.

But I needed a second opinion, and so I went to the only man I knew I could completely trust: Jasper Whitlock, my best friend for God knows how long. We grew up together, went to school together, acted like young idiots together, _talked_ about nothing and everything together. Needless to say, we went to war together, and were as close as two men could be without actually going steady with one another (it was an ongoing inside joke between the two of us).

"Hey, uh...Jazz?" I asked quietly as I approached his bunk, where he was doing one of the things he does best: sleep. "Jazz?" I asked again when he didn't wake. "Jasper." I nudged his arm, hoping that it would stir him, but to no avail. Finally, I picked up a pillow, and yelled at the top of my lungs. "JASPER WHITLOCK, WAKE UP YOU GODDAMN ASS!"

Well, it got him up.

Jasper squealed like a goddamn pansy and rolled off the bunk, making me explode in hysterics. He rubbed his head, squinting his eyes as he looked up to see the cause of his mishap. When he noticed it was me, he growled, "You're gonna be sorry for that, Masen." He raised his hand as if to hit me, but then slouched down sleepily. "...Well, you know, when I'm awake, that is."

I couldn't but laugh at first, but then died off as I thought of the real reason I came here. "Jasper, really though, I need to ask you something." I tried not to fidget in my seat like a nine year old school brat.

Immediately sensing my seriousness and tense nature, Jasper sat straighter up, a calm wave washing over his expression. It was something he did when he could distinguish a feeling of apprehension or uncertainty, and made him known as the Walking Advice Column back in our hometown. "Sure, go ahead. You know, what I always say: throw down the country." He smirked, raising an eyebrow before he got serious again. "But, really, what's on your mind?"

Could I _tell_ him what was really on my mind? Did I want to be risky? "Uh...well..." I started, and decided that I wasn't exactly feeling particularly dangerous today. "Well, I just got a letter from a...a friend, and..." At this Jasper gave me an unbelieving look; since when the hell did I have friends? Other than him, of course. "I-I mean, he's not really my friend, per se, but a good acquaintance...uh...yeah...acquaintance..."

Jasper was staring at me like I'd lost my mind. _Great going, Cullen_, I mentally scolded myself. "So anyway, this guy...Everett..." I struggled for a name, pleased when I finally got one (albeit a goddamn stupid one). "He really likes this girl, Bell...er, Bertha. I mean, he _really_ likes her. But he can't. I mean, he _shouldn't_. She's shy and clumsy and bashful, but she's also beautiful and breathtaking and extraordinary and she makes him so _happy_, much unlike he's never before. I-I mean, _he_, thinks he might even be in love with her."

Looking at me with a curious expression, Jasper seemed amused by the frantic expression that I was sure was present on my face. "Well, then what's the problem? If the man's in love, then the man's in love. What's a rooster if'n he hasn't got a hen?" I forced a chuckle at his southern expression; I was still preoccupied with my own problems.

Well, Everett's problems.

"The thing is, Everett's job makes him think that they can't be together. He thinks it's too dangerous for Bertha; he doesn't really want her exposed to any part of his profession. And plus, it takes a full commitment, and he isn't sure if he's ready to handle both a career _and_ a relationship. He'd be gone all the time, and he's worried that Bertha won't want him anymore." I could feel the agitation stinging my eyes at the very thought of having Bella reject me, to never see her again. I looked toward Jasper desperately. "What should he do? Is it greedy to want someone so much that you're willing to put their safety at risk?

He glanced at me warily with those cold blue eyes. "Well, I suppose that's up to Everett himself, ain't it?"

I nodded, looking down disappointedly. I really had thought Jasper would help me on this one. But I guess I was on my own from here...I turned to walk out, picking my coat from its piled mess on the floor. "Thanks anyway-"

"Edward?" He called, starting to stand. "It _is_ his decision, but if it were _me_, I would ask myself: whose happiness do I care more for? My own? Or my lover's? Could I live in grief but live all the same, if I knew that the one I loved was living a life of happiness? Hope that'll help...your friend."

Jasper had a point. Were my selfish ways truly worth it, if it meant I were subjecting Bella to a life of equal grief and despair? How could I live with myself if I hurt her in any way possible? I would be off in war, gone for so long, maybe even without _return_, and she was left where? Waiting here for me while her entire life crumbles and deteriorates? I shook my head in disgust, what kind of a monster had I become? I made my decision that day, and that was to try and separate from my only love.

It was for her best...wasn't it?

..........................................

"Goddamn best my ass," I muttered irritatedly.

She had found me dancing that night with Lauren Off-Her-Nuts Mallory. Well, I wouldn't exactly call it _dancing_. It was leaning towards more of a "me-pushing-her-off-of-me-so-I-can-wallow-in-my-own-goddamn-self-pity" kind of thing. I mean, I wasn't exactly in the best mood after seeing Bella's broken-hearted face as she watched me tell her I only wanted to stay friends.

God, what a moron I was.

I had been such a fool that day; thank _God_ Bella was strong and determined and _forgiving_ enough to even _consider_ taking me back. Of course, it took a little pushing on my part- I said things to her I would probably _kill_ any other man if he were to say it to her- and she didn't exactly take it _well_, per se. I mean, she did have that look in her eye that gave me the slightest impression she wanted to rip my body to shreds and feed it to angry sharks off the coast of Australia, but all in all, I think it went pretty well.

But today was, singlehandedly, the most amazing day in my entire life. Bella's family was remarkable; their hospitality and kindness told me exactly where she got that particular trait from, and everyone spoke nothing but highly of her. She was so hardworking and persistent and beautiful, it reminded me of why I fell so much in love with her in the first place. And her hands...oh, Lord, those glorious hands on my-

"Lieutenant General Cullen?"

I turned around and realized, with immense surprise, that I had already made my way into town. And, standing before me in all of his tiny glory, was Toby, the youngest in our squadron. His uniform was swimming on his skinny sixteen-year old figure, and he looked up at me with wary eyes. "Uh...er...um....Sir? I, uh-"

"Spit it out, Toby." I rolled my eyes, indicating with a hand gesture that he should go on with it.

He tried to stand up straighter, and cleared his throat. "Well, Sir, I have a letter that is addressed to you, from a lady. She told me that it was of utmost importance to deliver it to you immediately, as soon as you came back into town." He shuffled around in his cluttered messenger bag, slung lazily over his shoulder, and hastily found whatever he was looking for. "Ah, here it is," he said, and held it in front of me.

It was a small envelope, white and addressed to an Edward Cullen. The writing was curly and feminine, obviously casual (whoever had addressed me so informally must have some sort of significant relationship to me). I opened it hesitantly, cocking an eyebrow once at the boy in front of me before taking out its contents: a piece of white parchment, a paragraph or two written in the same loopy handwriting on the front of the envelope. "_Edward,_" it began, and I continued to read silently.

As I finished the last two words on the page, I could feel my jaw clench tightly and my eyes start to sting. My hands gripped into fists, my knuckles turning as white as snow. Every muscle in my body tensed. But that wasn't even the worst feeling. No; the worst part was my heart, as it shattered into a million goddamn shards, irreplaceable and eternally unfixable. I was positive this time that there was no second chance, no redemption this time around, and locked those tiny shards far away into the depths of my soul. Or, I suppose, lack thereof. I turned to Toby, keeping my expression carefully blank and void of emotion.

"Toby, sent word to the squadron. Tell them to prepare for war."

**END OF PART ONE.**

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**Wow. Intense chapter. Not to mention freaking LONG! Review, please?**


	16. Mendacity

Hello, wonderful people.

I know I said in the beginning that once I was done with part one of this story, I was just gonna make an entirely new one and have it be part two, like a kinda-sequel. But as I was thinking, I decided that it was just best to keep it as on whole, instead of in parts. And, in forewarning, if this first part of the chapter is kind of rushed, I apologize. I just wanted to get right to the action!

And, as for my dedication, this chapter is for a few of my dear reviewers: Sabalvsanls6 (or Sarah), to whom I hope this goes out to and thus cures her cliff hanging death, MusicLuv4Life, for her wonderful French interpretation of surprise "Le Gasp!", and finally, mozartandi, who I _know_ has been reading my stories for a pretty long time and left a really super awesome review the other day :). Thanks so much for the reviews, dearies; they all really brightened my day!

Anyway, on with the story, and I hope you guys are ready for a wild ride!

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_"Hope begins in the dark, the stubborn hope that if you just show up and try to do the right thing, the dawn will come.  
You just wait and watch and work: You don't give up."_

_-Anne Lamott-_

"He _loves_ me. _He_ loves me. He. Loves. _Me_."

I had been repeating it to myself for the past half hour or so, like some crazed mantra, unable to move from my spot. I was leaning against the door, gripping the handle as if I were holding onto my life, desperately clinging to the scent of him all over me. My smile was wistful and I couldn't seem to keep my eyes from rolling to the back of my head in pure happiness.

And I was. Happy. For the first time in my life, I was completely and wholly content, every euphoric breath that left my lips thoroughly rich with buoyancy and rapture. Every erratic heartbeat, still accelerated and frenzied from the moment he left me all those minutes ago, already leaving me with the feeling of desire, of a certain coldness in his absence. It was like Edward was my personal antidote to the disease I had been unaware of for so long, the cure for the illness that had slowly been plaguing my body my whole life.

It was strange, almost, that unadulterated feeling of love coursing through my veins. If you were to set back time, before any of this had ever happened, and tell me that in two and a half months time I would have met an infuriating nineteen-year-old Lieutenant General who I eventually would fall in love with, I would have stood up to Lauren Mallory and her cronies, and I would have had almost-sex on top of a goddamn _horse_, for Christ's sake...well, to say that I wouldn't have believed you would be the understatement of the year.

"Maybe I _will_ have a happy ending," I whispered, my voice too full of hope.

Up until this point in my life, I had set for myself a thorough belief that dreams were a waste of time. They were fabricated and exploited and thrown around, and almost every single one of them came to no fruition. They were something of absolutely no use, of no practicality, at least where I was concerned. After all, where did silly dreams fit into an Illinois farm girl's life?

But ever since I had met Edward Cullen, my life seemed to be slipping out of my grasp, and into a strange world I had never even begun to know. Everything was so new; colors were brighter, images sharper, air fresher...all that I could see were the fantastic reinvigorated illustrations around me, as if I came directly out of a vivid painting. And every time he crossed my mind again, the pictures would just become all the more brilliant.

I sighed, thinking of all the things I loved about him. I loved his compassion and raw honesty, the way he would look at me and whisper sweet things into my ear. I loved his dazzling green eyes that were so filled with sincerity and love, and his chiseled jaw that seemed to always be covered with the shortest stubble; a habit, I knew, from being on the battlefield with little time to do trivial things, like shaving. I loved the way he would absentmindedly run his hands through his hair when he thinking deeply about something, and how he would bite his inner cheek when he was agitated.

I loved that he always put other before himself, whether it be friends or his family or even his country. I loved that gorgeous, heavenly crooked smile that seemed to grace is lips whenever he thought something that made him smile. But most of all, I loved the perfect look of complete and utter happiness, the bliss evident in his expression as he grinned, the slightest trace of boyish dimples only visible if you had memorized every millimeter of his face. His eyes would become brighter, his cheeks slightly flushed, and love seemed to be bursting out of his body, as if he could barely contain it in. That look was what I loved because it was reserved for _me_.

As I thought that last part, I couldn't help but let out a frilly giggle, as if I were nine all over again. I hugged my sides, feeling like if I didn't my heart would just leap from my chest. "He loves me!" I shrieked childishly, before forcing myself to quiet down. "Go make dinner, Bella," I tried to instruct myself sternly, but accidentally let a few more snickers escape.

I stood up, my limbs stretching from their locked-in position as I did so. After a few moments of getting accustomed to self-support, I headed into our small kitchen, and for _once_ in life the pealing blue paint, the scratched and work countertops, even the dulled cabinet doors didn't make me feel confined, trapped; instead, I felt quite the opposite: I felt _free_.

Like a bird, I thought idly as I reached for the flour, which was, regrettably, even less stocked than usual.

I sighed and took it down from the cabinet, reflecting on the absurdity of inflation. I couldn't remember when it first started; I was only one year old in 1929, when the Stock Market had crashed over in the east. And along with the huge drought that seemed to come with the crisis? It was practically death row for families that owned farms, much like my mother and father, recently married and moved here at the time. There were struggles everywhere, even in our little hick-town, where there had been five other plantations prior to Black Tuesday. Needless to say, they soon closed after the inability to sell their products.

But my father was first, and foremost, a business man. He was such before a motivator, before a theorist, before even a farmer. He knew just how to make everything he put his money into thrive, even from an early age (at thirteen, he would buy used clothespins and broken fishing line for two pennies a bundle, and would go to the rocky shores of the nearest lakes - about two and a half miles from here- to catch bucket loads of the juiciest crabs in the county).

So when the depression first hit, my father set it out to keep everything he had worked so hard for alive and thriving. He lessened the price of his crops, making it so that people would be more willing to buy them but enough so that we could still manage. He went around town, talking about anything and everything to anyone that was willing to listen, building trust and friendship with the people of Arlington. Soon that trust grew into respect and assurance, and everyone knew their money was safe when they bought good-old-fashioned harvest from old reliable Charlie Swan.

But even through their survival, my mother was shaken. Some of her best friends, her old neighbors, her _sisters_ were wounded by the depression that plagued our country. She witnessed their deep struggle as they fought to keep their money, their belongings, even their homes. She was determined never to let her life spiral to that, and went into a frenzied funds reduction, so to speak. She vowed to save on, well, _everything_: from extra shirt buttons to clay flower pots, my mother refused to buy anything that wasn't offered in bargain.

And that's how my parents survived the depression.

"And then came Lawrence Charles Swan," I murmured, shaking my head at the sack of half-filled flour I'd been staring at for the past thirteen minutes. Though things had been getting better, as far as prices went, since we went into the war, my mom still was a bit paranoid and bought things as little as possible. "Now," I said to myself, tapping idly on our kitchen counter as I tried to think of what to make. "I can make a chicken pot pie, but didn't our thyme leaves die a week and a half ago? What about a stew...but I doubt there's enough time to let the broth boil...And then there's-"

"BELLAAA!" I heard the shrill cry of Beth, broken by the slamming front door. "BELLA!"

Something was wrong. I could tell from the faulty, uncoordinated way I could hear her footsteps lumbering across the floor, the distraught, desperate tone of her voice as she made her way to me. Her throat was raspy and dry, her words catching, stumbling over one another.

This reminded me of the time I had gone to pick her up from grammar school once. I had just gone into intermediate, so I got home exactly twenty three minutes earlier than my younger siblings and was therefore sent to bring them home everyday in the afternoon. On this particular day, in the midst of spring, I was opening the front door of Forks Elementary School when I heard it. The mild hyperventilating, the erratic breaths, coming from behind a small bush.

There, squatting down in her plaid overalls, was eleven year old Beth, rubbing her red, wet nose ferociously. The look on her face was panic-stricken, worried to the point of unadulterated shock. _Beth?_ I'd asked. _What's wrong?_ She'd lost her favorite doll, Mrs. Doll (original, yes, I know).

We eventually found Mrs. Doll at the bottom of her lunchbox, hidden between Beth's strawberry jam sandwich and her clay squares (something she enjoyed making when not accompanied by the plastic toy). It was a minor problem easily solved, but forever would I be able to instantly recognize the look on my sister's face when, at least to her, something was awfully, awfully wrong.

My presumptions were confirmed when Beth stumbled into the room, hurrying as if someone or something had just died. Her hair was windblown and a mess, her eyes darting and frantically searching for something. The brown orbs, similar to my own, were wild and alert, holding what could only be described as pure fear in their depths.

"Bella!" She gasped, holding her chest as she gulped in air, like she'd just run across the state or something. "Bella, Bella, _Bella_..." she whispered, like a mantra. She made her way over to me, shaking her head in disbelief.

"What?" I asked, instantly concerned. "What's wrong, Beth?"

"Bella, oh Bella..." She was moaning, clutching onto the counter as if she couldn't support herself.

"What?" I cried, putting my hands on her shoulders. "What happened?! Tell me what's wrong wright now." She just kept shaking her head pitifully, her eyes scrunched shut as if she were trying to block something out. "Bethany Swan, if you don't tell me what's wrong I won't be able to help you," I said sternly, going into what she called my 'Mother Mode'.

"It's not me," she whispered suddenly, her eyes widening as they focused on my own. "It's you, Bella."

"What!" I was getting frustrated now. "_What_ is me!"

"They're gone," she groaned, trembling. "They're all gone! _He's_ gone, Bella."

Now I wasn't just worried about Beth; I was _scared_. Never before had I seen her in such a dire situation as this, in such a seemingly horrific circumstance as this. I sat down shakily, folding my hands carefully on my lap. "Beth, please," I murmured, in the same tone as her previous whispers. "_Please_ tell me what's going on. Who's gone?"

She took a deep breath and looked down at her lap. "Edward's gone, Bella. We just got message in town that the troops were scheduled to leave as soon as possibly; immediately. The notice only arrived to us just now, but they had begun to prepare their leave almost half an hour ago. They left for the northern border about eight minutes before I came to get you." She looked up at me finally, her eyes glassy with tears. "Edward left, Bella. He's gone."

For a moment, all time seemed to stop. No longer could I hear Beth's labored breaths, my speeding heartbeat. No longer did the lines and contours of every shape in the room exist; everything was a molded blur of muted hues and faded distinctions. It was like when you squeeze different paints together onto the same blob, mixing it together only to find yourself stuck with a mess of contorted and disoriented colors.

And then it hit me. Edward was gone. He left me, without even saying goodbye.

My first feeling was that of utter heartbreak, as if, for the second time in twenty four hours, someone had take a hammer and just shattered my soul into a million pieces. Had he lied to me when he told me he loved me? Had he been misleading me with all of those kisses, those touches, those looks? Was I just a fool, another girl that fell for his charming ways and captivating smiles?

My conscience thought differently, though. It knew that Edward wasn't a liar or a manipulator, and would never go as low to lead me on, making me think something that was entirely false. He _was_ a good person, wasn't he?

I knew, had always known, that there would inevitably be a time where Edward's position would require him to return to war, leaving me here waiting for God knows how long; maybe even for forever. But never would I have guessed that that time would come so soon, that it would arrive so quickly. And without warning? It didn't seem like something the Edward Cullen that I knew would do.

I voiced this thought to my sister, numbly staring at the cracked, dusty tiles of our kitchen floor. In return, she looked toward me with that nauseating pity, usually reserved for some wallowing, heartbroken girl that got dumped by their beau the minute after he professed his love for her.

Oh wait, I guess that's me.

Beth, replying to my confusion, said, "Oh, Bella, I know honey. But maybe it just wasn't meant to be. You're too good for him, anyway," she added the last part bitterly, as if not only trying to convince me, but herself.

_There's just something not right about all of this_, I thought, simply shaking my head. "But..."

But I knew I was right. This _wasn't_ something Edward would do, which meant that there was obviously something terribly wrong with this whole ordeal. What could possibly cause him to leave so suddenly, after his promise to return not even an hour earlier? What could possibly cause him to have such an abrupt change of heart, to do something extraordinarily out of his character without warning?

Something within me was awakening now, a new surge of emotion completely different from the previous self-pity I had held for myself only moments before. It was a feeling of not only confusion, but anger and dynamism and the raw desire to figure out what the hell was going on. I needed to know. I didn't care if I had to drag myself halfway across the world in back, I needed to know Edward's reasoning.

"Beth," I said suddenly, standing up. "Get my coat, I'm going into town for a bit."

"What?!" Beth cried, standing up with me, an incredulous expression on her pale face. "B-but, Bella, you were just- and I- and he-"

"_Coat_, Bethany," I growled, holding out my arm expectantly.

This time, my sister didn't hesitate to follow my orders. She rushed into the parlor, coming back in less than five seconds with my worn blue wool coat, the one that had two missing buttons and a torn pocket. She handed it to me, wordlessly, as if she was still in shock by my unanticipated outburst.

I forced it on my body roughly, not pausing as I rushed out of our kitchen, through our living room, and to the front door. Beth followed me anxiously, hoping obviously to catch some of my own reasoning. I ignored her, blankly tugging open the heavy brass doorknob as I pushed my body into the already chilled air.

"Bella, what the hell are you doing?" She grabbed my arm, finding her voice for the first time. She squeezed her hands more tightly when I tried to pull away from her, as if creating shackles to restrain me from leaving. "And I'm not letting go until I get a real answer."

I stopped suddenly, looking at the terrified face of my closest sister. "I need to know," I said hoarsely, exhaling. "I need to find him and figure it out. Something's wrong...horribly wrong. I have to understand why he's doing this, why he's leaving me." I looked into her deep eyes, wide with the absorption of my words. "I love him, Beth. Please. I love him." I stared wordlessly at her, pleading tacitly for an understanding, a comprehension of some sort.

Her eyes widened even more, if it were possible, and her hold on my arm loosened. "You love him," she repeated dumbly, blinking.

"Yes," I sighed.

She completely let go now, her arms dropping to her sides as if she didn't know what to do with them. She stared at me for a few moments, and I could practically see the wheels in her head turning rapidly, her thoughts flitting across her mind a mile a minute. "Go," she said unexpectedly. "Go, then, Bella. Find him." 

In that moment, I held more love for my sister than ever before. "Thank you," I whispered, and had one last lingering glance at her soft expression before turning to run down the dirt road, in the direction of town. But before I was directly out of earshot, I could have sworn I heard her mutter two distinct words.

"Be safe."

.......................................................

I could see them now. 

It was them, no question about it. They looked exactly as they had the first day I saw them; dark brown uniforms, covered in metal badges, tan satchels slug over their shoulders, tin canteens clunking and clinking as the walked along the road in a closely packed group.

But there was, undoubtedly, something different the soldiers. It wasn't the fact that those proudly adorned uniforms were now crisp and clean, or the fact that, instead of limply hanging with emptiness, their bags were filled with food and other various forms of supplies. It wasn't even that they marched alone, that there was no cheery crowd singing and laughing beside them. It was there expressions, visible even from my spot about hundred and fifty feet away, forlorn and crestfallen, gloomy as one would look going to a funeral.

Ahead of them marched the one person I came here for, the one man I'd scale the moon and back for: Edward. His posture was rigid, his face stone cold, and instantly I was reminded of the time (had it been only two days ago?) he had taken me aside to inform me of our "parting". It was the expression of a military officer, and not one of a man in love.

Immediately, I broke into a sprint, faster than I had ever gone before in my desperation. "Edward!" I called, my voice breaking. A few soldiers in the back row turned, maybe three or four, to stare at me with confusion.

Louder, I told myself, and raised my voice. "Edward!"

Still, he didn't turn. I forced my legs faster, my shoes gripping the gravel and dirt on the road. "EDWARD!" I screamed, and now the entire squadron was gaping at me, their movements slowed almost to a complete stop. But Edward kept his pace, though I was positive he could hear me.

I was only about twenty feet away from them now, and could hear their attempted whispers as I threw myself forward. It's her, I could hear. That's the Swan lass, the General's girl. Why'd he leave her? Now I know what the big deal was; if I had her I'd...

"Enough!" Edward suddenly barked, turning around abruptly. "Get back into line, and keep your mouths shut! If I even hear you breathe another word, you'll find your sorry asses confined to the barracks for a day." I watched, in pure, absolute shock, as Edward shouted at the men.

What kind of a monster was this? Where was the man I had grown to love so much, the kind and gentle man that had once loved me?

And for the first time, he turned to me. "What do you want, Isabella?"

It was the way he said my name. Isabella. As if I were some sort of nuisance to him, an inconvenience that was to be dealt with, instead of the woman he had professed his life-long love for less than two hours ago. "What do I want?" I said, seething through my teeth. "I want a goddamn explanation, Edward!"

"Yeah, you want an explanation," He muttered, and then looked at his soldiers, who were still watching the scene with masked interest. "What the hell did I tell you? Get back in line and march before I report you to Service!" And with that, we were alone again, the men hurriedly running until they were at least fifty feet away.

"What the hell did that mean?" I spat, glaring at him.

He raised an eyebrow, his mouth set in a thin line. "I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about, Isabella," he responded cooly, eyeing me with distaste, the same way a person might view an overfilled garbage can, or a fly that had just been flattened on a wall.

"'You want an explanation'," I mocked, rolling my eyes. "What the hell was that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," he said nonchalantly, though his voice was hard and unfeeling. It was so unlike the velvety soft, smooth honey voice I had once associated with my love for him. "I just find it hard to believe that you're the one who thinks they have the right to ask questions when I was the one bitten and thrown away like a rotten apple." 

Now this sentence stopped me. Though I had been about to throw back some sarcastic comment, I was halted by his biting words. Wait, what? "What are you talking about? Thrown away? Since when have I ever treated you with anything but love and sentiment, Edward?" My voice was soft at the end, weak with feeling. I cursed myself for this; I was trying to be strong.

"Oh, don't play stupid, Bella," Edward suddenly hissed, raw emotion flooding his voice now. "Don't you dare pretend that you didn't say those words to me."

"What words, Edward?! I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about!" I threw my hands in the air, unable to comprehend what in the world he was trying to get at. Was he playing some sort of sick game with me? Or was he just going insane?

Apparently not. Wordlessly, he reached into his pocket, obviously searching for something. When he pulled his hand out, he held a crumpled note, white and crushed, and threw it toward me. Well, more like at me.

"Those goddamn words." He glared at me as I bent down to pick up the envelope, addressed to Edward Cullen.

The handwriting, curly and girlish, was one I didn't recognize. It read this:

Edward,

I regret to inform you that these following months I've been misleading you. Though I did not wish to do so, I didn't, at the time, realize quite what I was doing. I had no intention to lie to you, or cause you to believe something that was entirely false. It was wrong of me, I know, so I've decided to come clean and admit to you what guilt has been plaguing my thoughts ever since we've become close.

You see, I never realized just how confined my life was until now. How restricted this prison of a world has kept me, held captive against my own will. Of course, from an early age I got used to it, so the thoughts of freedom rarely struck me. But now I need to be free. And with you, I can't. You'd be too constricting, too suffocating for me to be happy. Actually, you're really a dud. I can't believe I ever even wasted my time on you.

So sorry if you're offended. Actually, I don't really care.

Have fun in the military, because I'm dumping you for someone who will make my life a lot more exciting.

Yours truly,

Bella Swan.

As I finished the absurd letter, I realized the name that was signed at the bottom of the page. Bella Swan? Wait a minute; that was me. When the hell did I write this note? "Edward, I-"

"It doesn't matter, Bella." Edward cut me off coldly, his jaw rigid. "Anything more I can possibly say to you will probably just be more of a waste of your precious time. In fact, since I'm obviously so suffocating, why don't you just leave right now if you can't stand my presence so much?"

"No!" I cried, suddenly horrified at the thought. "I didn't mean-"

"You didn't mean to write those words?" He spat, disgustedly, his emerald eyes blazing with hatred and hostility. "You didn't mean to take my heart and rip it to goddamn pieces? Please, Bella, save your lies for someone who'll fall for them. And you know what? Why don't you do just that. Go find some other man to fool, because I honestly couldn't care any goddamn less." He turned, then, starting to walk away from me.

The sun was almost fully set now, the darkness starting to fall upon us. It was cold now, but I could hardly feel it, even through the thin fabric of my wool coat. The wind was picking up, too, and I could faintly hear a wolf baying in the distance, a sad, somber crying sound.

Suddenly, I could feel my heart in my throat. There he was, the only good thing that had happened to me in so long, walking away with nothing but contempt held for me. It was devastating, to say the least, a crushing blow that practically knocked the wind out of me. My lungs felt like they were about to burst from the compression, as if they were being quickly squeezed of all the oxygen they held.

And you know what the worst thing was? It was that I couldn't do a damned thing about it. It couldn't speak, I couldn't walk, I couldn't even move a muscle. I just stood there numbly, watching as the love of my life increased the distance between us, more than possibly for forever. I wanted to scream, run, kiss him, anything to convince him that it was all a mistake, that somebody had set this up.

But my body was frozen, like everything had just suddenly shut off inside me without any warning. "E-Edward," I tried to choke out, my words coming out in a strangled whisper that he had no hope of hearing. Come on, Bella, I urged myself. "Edward," I cried, a little more loudly, but still on the verge of inaudible. "Edward!" I sobbed now, delayed tears flooding my cheek.

Edward turned, hesitantly, to face me. And for the first time since I saw him here, his eyes were conflicted and smoldering, as if trying to decide something. And also for the first time, I felt hope that he might realize that it was all wrong, that he was mistaken. That he would come back into my arms, and we might live that happily ever after I had so dreamed of earlier.

But just as soon as the light in his brilliant eyes appeared, it vanished, that cold shield coming up once again to mask his expression into that of unfeeling indifference. He turned briskly and ran to catch up to his men, barking an order to keep marching.

And there I was, left once again alone and defeated. But this time it wasn't the same. I knew that this was wrong, that Edward and I were meant to be together. I was angry and passionate and ready, so ready, to get him back to me as soon as possible. I went over the options and scenarios in my head, thinking of ways to go about doing this.

And then I knew. It was so perfect, and if I could execute it, if I could just get it right, it would all work out. But if I was wrong, if I made even the tiniest mistake, I could quite possibly lose my life, in more ways than one. But then again, was a life without Edward truly considered a life at all? My plan was dangerous, that was for certain, but I knew I had to do it. It was for my only chance at true happiness, and for that I was willing to go to any measures. I knew what I had to do, and I would carry through with it.

I was going to war.

* * *

Ooh la la, some angsty goodness in there! Yes, I know I'm evil, but I just had to do it.

Now, the next chapter or few might be a little slow, but I promise we're going to get somewhere with it. So just bear with me, okay? Oh, and excuse the poor use of italicization and whatnot toward the end of this chapter; fanfiction(dot)net has really been screwing with us authors lately, and frankly? It's really goddamn annoying. It won't let me bold or italicize or underline, and I have to press "save" more than four times before it actually saves everything. But since you guys have been the most awesometastic group ever, I'm gonna give you a little tidbit as to who we'll be meeting very, very soon:

They're names are Rosalie and Emmett.


	17. EXTREMELY IMPORTANT!

**EXTREMELY IMPORTANT:**

Hello, everyone.

First off, this is _not_ LaBellaBella. It's her good friend, Heather, signing in on her account to relay an important message for her. If you're wondering how this is possible or don't believe me for some reason, she gave me her account password so I could do this. But that doesn't matter. What _does_ is that she won't be posting any updates for a while.

Now, before you all go off on me, or _her_ for that matter, you should know something. Two weekends ago, Belle was in a severe accident. She and her mom were coming back from a visit to a relative's, and it was late, around eleven forty-five at night. The road they were on was pretty dark, and there was barely anyone on it. Before they could process what was happening, they were hit on the side by a drunk driver at the junction of their's and a side road.

Both the driver and they are safe and alive, but all suffered pretty critical wounds. I talked to her yesterday, and she asked me to tell you all that she's sorry she couldn't get another chapter up sooner, but that it was in the process. Though she's okay, she's pretty banged up and is tired all the time, and the doctors told her they want her rest for a while longer. She needs time to recover before she's up and running her usual schedule again. I hope you understand; the situation is all _but_ conventional.

Thanks for listening and reading, and hopefully Belle will be back as soon as possible!

-Heather-


End file.
